THE     MODERN    DRAMA    SERIES 
EDITED    BY   EDWIN   BJORKMAN 


MR.     FAUST 
ARTHUR    DAVISON     FICKE 


MR.  FAUST 


BY 

ARTHUR   DAVISON   FICKE 


NEW  YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
MCMXIII 


COPYRIGHT    1913    BY 
MITCHELL    KENNERLEY 


THE-  PLIMPTON- PRESS 

NORWOOD-MASS-  U-S-A 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  vn 

LIST  OF  PLAYS  BY  ARTHUR  DAVISON  FICKE  x 

MR.  FAUST  * 


The  author  gratefully  acknowledges  his  debt  for  permission 
to  reprint  one  of  the  lyrics  herein,  which  appeared 
originally  in  "Poetry" 


INTRODUCTION 

nnHROUGH  all  the  work  of  Arthur  Davison  Ficke 
A  runs  a  note  of  bigness  that  compels  attention 
even  when  one  feels  that  he  is  still  groping  both  for 
form  and  thought.  In  "  Mr.  Faust  "  this  note  has 
assumed  commanding  proportions,  while  at  the  same 
time  the  uncertainty  manifest  in  some  of  the  earlier 
work  has  almost  wholly  disappeared.  Intellectually  as 
well  as  artistically,  this  play  shows  a  surprising  ma 
turity.  It  impresses  me,  for  one,  as  the  expression  of 
a  well-rounded  and  very  profound  philosophy  of  life 
—  and  this  philosophy  stands  in  logical  and  sympa 
thetic  relationship  to  what  the  western  world  to-day 
regards  as  its  most  advanced  thought.  The  evolutionary 
conception  of  life  is  the  foundation  of  that  philosophy, 
which,  however,  has  little  or  nothing  in  common  with 
the  materialistic  and  dogmatic  evolutionism  of  the  last 
century.  The  work  sprung  from  that  philosophy  is 
full  of  the  new  sense  of  mystery,  which  makes  the  men 
of  to-day  realize  that  the  one  attitude  leading  nowhere 
is  that  of  denial.  Faith  and  doubt  walk  hand  in  hand, 
each  one  being  to  the  other  check  and  goad  alike.  And 
with  this  new  freedom  to  believe  as  well  as  to  question, 
man  becomes  once  more  the  centre  of  his  known  uni 
verse.  But  there  he  stands,  humbly  proud,  not  as  the 
arrogant  master  of  a  "  dead  "  world,  but  merely  as 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

the  foremost  servant  of  a  life-principle  which  asserts 
itself  in  the  grain  of  sand  as  in  the  brain  of  man. 

Yet  "  Mr.  Faust  "  is  by  no  means  a  philosophical  or 
moral  tract.  It  is,  first  of  all  and  throughout,  a  living, 
breathing  work  of  art,  instinct  with  beauty  and  faith 
ful  in  its  every  line  to  the  principle  laid  down  by  its 
author  in  the  preface  to  one  of  his  earlier  volumes: 
"  Poetical  imagination  must  fail  altogether  if  it  de 
scends  from  its  natural  sphere  and  assumes  work  which 
is  properly  that  of  economic  or  political  experience. 
Nor  can  it  usefully  urge  its  own  peculiar  intuitions  as 
things  of  practical  validity." 

Mr.  Ficke  was  born  in  1883  at  Davenport,  Iowa, 
and  there  he  is  still  living,  although  I  understand 
that  he  has  since  then  been  wandering  in  so  many 
other  regions,  physical  and  spiritual,  that  he  can 
hardly  call  it  his  home.  He  graduated  from  Harvard 
in  1904  and  spent  the  next  travelling  in  all 
sorts  of  strange  and  poetic  places  —  Japan,  India, 
the  Greek  mountains,  the  Aegean  Islands.  Returning 
to  the  United  States,  he  studied  law  and  was  admitted 
to  the  Bar  in  1908.  While  studying,  he  taught  English 
for  a  year  at  the  University  of  Iowa,  lecturing  on  the 
history  of  the  Arthurian  Legends. 

He  was  a  mere  boy  when  he  began  to  write,  turning 
from  the  first  to  the  metrical  form  of  expression  and 
remaining  faithful  to  it  in  most  of  his  subsequent  ef 
forts.  His  poems  and  essays  have  been  printed  in 
almost  all  the  leading  magazines.  So  far  he  has  pub 
lished  five  volumes  of  verse :  "  From  the  Isles,"  a 
series  of  lyrics  of  the  Aegean  Sea ;  "  The  Happy  Prin 
cess,"  a  romantic  narrative  poem ;  "  The  Earth  Pas 
sion,"  a  series  of  poems  which  may  be  characterized 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

as  the  effort  of  a  star-gazer  to  find  satisfaction  in 
the  things  of  the  earth ;  "  The  Breaking  of  Bonds," 
a  Shelleyan  drama  of  social  unrest,  where  he  has  tried 
to  formulate  a  hope  for  our  final  emergence  from  the 
maelstrom  of  class-conflict ;  and  "  Twelve  Japanese 
Painters,"  a  group  of  poems  expressive  of  the  peculiar 
and  alluring  charm  of  the  great  Japanese  painters  and 
their  world  of  remote  beauty. 

EDWIN  BJORKMAN. 


LIST  OF  PLAYS  BY  ARTHUR  DAVISON  FICKE 

THE  BREAKING  OF  BONDS,  1910 
MR.  FAUST,  1913 


MR.  FAUST 


INSCRIPTION 

Pale  Goethe,  Marlowe,  Lessing  —  calm  your  fears ! 
None  plots  to  steal  your  laurel  wreaths  away. 
Approach ;    take  tickets :   you  shall  witness  here 
The  unromantic  Faustus  of  to-day  — 

A  Faustus  whom  no  mystic  choirs  sustain, 
No  wizard  fiends  blind  with  prodigious  spell. 
The  mortal  earth  shall  serve  him  as  domain 
Whether  he  mount  to  Heaven  or  sink  to  Hell. 

Yet,  mount  or  sink,  your  lights  around  him  shine. 
And  there  shall  flow,  bubbling  with  woe  or  mirth, 
From  these  new  bottles  your  familiar  wine, 
As  ancient  as  man's  rule  upon  the  earth. 


MR.   FAUST 

THE    FIRST    ACT 

The  scene  is  the  library  of  John  Faust,,  a  large  hand 
some  room  panelled  in  dark  oak  and  lined  with  rows 
of  books  in  open  book-shelves.  On  the  right  is  a  carved 
white  stone  fireplace,  with  deep  chairs  before  it.  In 
the  far  left  corner  of  the  room,  on  a  pedestal,  stands 
a  stiff  bust  of  George  Washington.  Near  it  hangs  a 
wonderful  Titian  portrait,  a  thing  of  another  world. 
The  furniture  looks  as  if  it  were,  and  probably  is,  plun 
der  from  the  palace  of  some  prince  of  the  Renaissance. 

A  fire  is  burning  in  the  fireplace;  it,  and  several 
shaded  lights,  make  a  subdued  brilliancy  in  the  room. 
Before  the  fire  sits  John  Faust.  Brander  and  Oldham, 
both  in  evening  dress,  lounge  comfortably  in  chairs 
near  Faust.  All  three  are  smoking,  and  tall  highball 
glasses  stand  within  their  reach. 

BRANDER 

You  are  a  thorn  to  me,  a  thorn  in  the  flesh. 

Contagiously  you  bring  to  me  mistrust 

Of  all  my  landmarks,  when,  as  here  to-night, 

Out  of  the  midst  of  every  pleasant  gift 

The  world  can  offer  you,  you  raise  your  voice 

In  scoffing  irony  against  each  face, 

Form,  action,  motive,  that  together  make 

Your  life,  and  ours. 


4  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

FAUST 

Dear  man,  I  did  not  mean 

To  send  my  poor  jokes  burrowing  like  a  mole 
Beneath  your  prized  foundations. 

BEANDEE 

Not  alone 

Your  attitude  to-night;    you  always  seem 
As  if  withholding  from  all  days  and  deeds 
Moving  around  you  —  from  our  life  and  yours  — 
Your  full  assent. 
FAUST 

Dear  Brander!    Is  it  true 
I  am  as  bad  as  that?    Well,  though  I  were, 
Why  should  it  trouble  you?     If  you  find  sport 
In  this  strange  game,  this  fevered  interplay, 
This  hodge-podge  crazy-quilt  which  we  are  pleased 
To  call  our  life  —  why,  like  it !     And  say :   Damned 
Be  all  who  are  not  with  me ! 

BRANDEE 

Are  not  you? 

FAUST 

I  claim  the  criminal's  privilege,  and  decline 
To  answer. 
OLDHAM 

Faust,  might  I  presume  so  far 
As  to  suggest  that  I  should  like  a  drink 
Before  you  two  start  breaking  furniture 
Over  this  matter? 
FAUST 

Certainly;    I  beg 
Your  pardon;   I  neglected  you. 
(He  busies  himself  with  the  glasses) 

No,  no, 

.  V   ::•*"•   : 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST 


We  won't  wage  combat  over  this.     You  're  right, 
Doubtless,  as  usual,  Brander.    I  have  not 
Your  fortunate  placidity  of  mind, 
And  I  get  grumpy. 

Come,  fill  up  your  glass ; 
And  let  us  drink  to  the  glories  of  the  world. 
Down  with  the  cynic ! 

BRANDER 

Down  with  him,  indeed! 

And  may  he  cease  to  trouble  you.    The  world 
Is  pretty  glorious  when  a  man  is  young, 
As  we  are,  and  so  many  splendid  choices 
Lie  all  around  him.     There  have  never  been 
Such  opportunities  as  now  are  spread 
Before  us.     Men  are  doing  mighty  things 
To-day.     A  critic  tells  me  that  last  night 
Wullf  at  the  opera  sang  "  La  ci  darem  " 
With  an  artistic  brilliancy  of  tone 
That  never  has  been  heard  on  any  stage 
Anywhere  in  the  world.     You  moped  at  home, 
Doubtless ;   but  it  was  wonderful,  on  my  word. 

OLDHAM 

Whom  did  you  go  with? 

BRANDER 

Midge. 

OLDHAM 

Ah,  Midge  again ! 
I  thought  so.  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

Well,  I  don't  know  why  I  should  n't. 

OLDHAM 

Those  rosy-toned  remarks  gave  you  away. 


MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 


Perhaps  't  was  not  "  Don  Juan  "  that  last  night 
Was  at  its  best,  but  Midge.     Where  did  you  sit? 

BRAXDER 

Up  in  the  gallery. 

OLDHAM 

The  top  one? 

BRANDER 

Yes. 

OLDHAM 

Once  more,  I  thought  so.    You  and  Midge  would  look 
Nice  in  a  box !     Yes,  I  will  pay  for  one 
If  you  will  take  it. 

BRANDER 

Oh,  leave  me  alone! 
FAUST 

Who  is  this  "  Midge  "  you  speak  of? 

OLDHAM 

Midge,  dear  Faust, 

Is  short  for  Margaret ;   which,  you  may  guess, 
Describes  a  lady  of  the  female  sex; 
Said  person  being  serviceably  employed 
As  maid-of-all-work  for  some  ancient  dame 
In  Brander's  own  apartment  house.     She  has, 
Beside  what  other  virtues  I  know  not, 
A  most  bewitching  ankle  and  a  taste 
For  opera.     And  dear  Brander's  kindly  heart 
Is  so  moved  by  the  sight  of  these  combined, 
He  sometimes  sneaks,  by  lonely  alley-ways, 
With  his  fair  Midge,  and  in  the  gallery 
High  out  of  sight  of  all  of  us  enjoys 
Her  and  the  opera. 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST 


FAUST 

I  did  not  know 
You  had  a  lady-love. 

BRANDER  T,   ,     ,          n       ,  i      ,  i 

It 's  hardly  that ! 

But  she  's  a  mighty  jolly  little  thing. 
FAUST 

What  sort  of  girl  is  she? 

BRANDER 

A  mighty  nice  one! 

Full  of  all  kinds  of  happiness ;   but  shy. 
I  5d  like  to  see  some  rounder  try  to  speak 
To  her  on  Broadway.     She  looks  like  a  lady! 
FAUST 

That  is  too  bad. 

BRANDER  ~,  ,  ^        ,.    , 

Oh,  pshaw!     Don  t  lecture  me; 
I  'm  not  a  saint ;   in  fact,  few  of  us  are. 

FAUST 

Unfortunately  not.     I  least  of  all. 

And  yet  I  wonder  if.  ...     However,  I 

Do  not  presume  to  lecture  you.     Remember 

One  thing,  though,  as  my  friend.     Your  Midge  has 

deeps 
Not  pleasant  under  her  if  you  let  go. 

BRANDER 

Oh,  I  will  not  let  go  !  ...    Not  yet,  at  least. 

OLDHAM 

Faust  really  means  it,  strange  as  it  may  seem. 
Of  late  he  has  turned  moralist. 
FAUST 

Not   quite: 

But  just  a  little  tired  of  pursuits 
That  end  regretfully. 


8  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

OLDHAM 

Well,  don't  pursue.  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

(Goes  to  the  window  and  raises  the  shade) 
See,  what  a  night  it  is !     The  stars  are  out 
As  if  a  bucketful  of  them  had  spilled 
Across  the  sky.    And  here  we  sit  like  owls, 
Blinking  and  staring  at  a  little  fire 
When  heaven  is  burning !    I  'm  afraid  it 's  time 
For  me  to  leave  this  owlish  parliament; 
And  I  shall  probably  knock  holes  in  half 
The  windows  of  the  town  as  I  walk  home 
Star-gazingly.     And  here  it 's  after  twelve ! 
I  might  have  guessed  it  from  the  fatal  fact 
That  we  'd  begun  to  talk  philosophy : 
No  sane  man  ever  does,  except  in  hours 
When  by  all  rights  he  should  be  sound  asleep. 
Good  night  to  both  of  you.    And  don't  stay  up 
Talking  till  morning. 

OLDHAM 

Well,  good  night. 

FAUST 

Good  night, 

Brander,  I  'm  sorry  you  must  go :   come  in 
Quite  soon  again,  and  I  will  try  to  be 
Less  disagreeable  than  I  was  to-night. 
[Brander  goes  out. 

OLDHAM 

I  '11  bet  he  takes  an  arc-light  for  a  star ! 

FAUST 

He  is  warm-hearted ;  I  am  fond  of  him. 
But     Midge!    .    .    .    However,     one     can     say     no 
more.  .  .  . 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  9 

OLDHAM 

He  's  a  good  fellow ;  but  he  tires  me 
Sometimes. 
FAUST 

Dear  boy,  I  envy  him. 
OLDHAM 

Of  course, 

And  so  do  I ;   but  I  would  not  exchange 
Heads  for  a  kingdom. 
FAUST 

Are  you  so  fond,  then, 
Of  what 's  in  yours  ? 

OLDHAM 

No,  but  at  least  I  have 
A  certain  faint  perception  of  the  gilded 
And  quite  preposterous  crudeness  of  our  days  — 
The  sordid  sickness  of  his  life,  and  ours ; 
And  that  is  something  to  be  thankful  for. 
FAUST 

Gratitude  is  a  graceful  gift. 

OLDHAM 

Come,  come ! 

What  snake  has  bitten  you,  that  to  your  lips 
A  poisoned  irony  so  bitter  springs 
To-night? 

FAUST 

I  am  revolving  in  my  brain 
This  serious  question :   whether  't  is  not  best 
That  one  turn  humorist.     The  mind  that  seeks 
Holiness,  finds  it  seldom;   who  pursues 
Beauty  perhaps  shall  in  a  lengthened  life 
Find  it  perfected  only  once  or  twice. 
But  if  one's  quest  were  humor  —  what  rich  stores, 


10  MR.    FAUST  [ACT 

What  tropic  jungles  of  it,  lie  to  hand 
At  every  moment,  everywhere  one  turns  — 
What  luscious  meadows  for  the  humorist! 

OLDHAM 

No  —  for  the  satirist !    There  is  no  humor 
In  what  you  see  and  I  see  when  we  look 
On  this  crude  world  wherein  our  lives  are  spent  — 
This  sordid  sphere  where  we  are  but  spectators  — 
This  crass  grim  modern  spectacle  of  lives 
Torn  with  consuming  lust  of  one  desire  — 
Gold,  gold,  forever  gold  —    Or  do  you  find 
Humor  in  that? 

FAUST 

It  might  be  found,  perhaps: 
The  joke  's  on  someone! 

OLDHAM 

There  's  no  joke  in  it! 
It  is  the  waste,  the  pitiful  waste  of  life ! 
Men  —  slaves  to  gather  gold  —  become  then  slaves 
Beneath  its  gathered  weight.     For  this  one  hope, 
All  finer  longings  perish  at  their  birth. 
Men's  eyes  to-day  envy  no  sage  or  seer 
Or  conqueror  except  his  triumphs  be 
In  this  base  sphere  of  commerce.     The  stars  go  out 
In  factory  smoke;   the  spirit  wanes  and  pales 
In  poisoned  air  of  greed.     It  is  an  age 
Of  traders  and  of  tricksters ;   all  the  high 
And  hounded  malefactors  of  great  wealth 
Differ  from  the  masses,  in  their  wealth,  indeed ; 
But  in  their  malefaction,  not  at  all. 
Your  grocer  and  my  butcher  have  at  heart 
The  selfsame  aims  as  he  to  whom  we  pay 
Tribute  for  every  pound  of  coal  we  burn. 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  11 

Their  scope  is  narrower,  but  their  act  the  same 
As  his  —  against  whose  millions  all  the  tongues 
Of  little  tricksters  in  each  corner  store 
Babble  and  rail  and  shriek ! 

FAUST 

Almost  you  do 

Persuade  me  to  turn  humorist  on  the  spot ! 
Was  ever,  since  Gargantua,  such  a  vine 
Heavy  with  bursting  clusters  of  the  grape 
Of  humor? 

OLDHAM 

Of  corruption!    You  may  laugh; 
But  there  's  in  all  your  laughter  hardly  more 
Mirth  than  in  my  upbraidings.     Ah,  I  grow 
So  weary  of  this  low-horizoned  scene, 
Our  generation ;    I  am  always  drawn 
In  thought  toward  that  great  noon  of  human  life 
When  in  the  streets  of  Florence  walked  the  powers 
And  princes  of  the  earth  —  Politian,  Pico, 
Angelo,  Leonardo,  Botticelli  — 
And  a  half-hundred  more  of  starry-eyed 
Sons  of  the  morning,  in  whose  hearts  the  god 
Struggled  unceasing.     Ah,  those  lucent  brains, 
Those  bright  imaginations,  those  keen  souls, 
Arrowy  toward  each  target  where  truth's  gold 
Glimmered,  or  beauty's!    Those  were  days  indeed; 
We  shall  not  look  upon  their  like  again. 

FAUST 

I  am  not  sure. 

OLDHAM 

Then  take  my  word  for  it ! 
FAUST 

I  am  not  sure;   the  lamentable  fact 


12  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

To  me  seems  otherwise.    For  I  believe 

That  this  vile  age  of  commerce  and  corruption 

Which  you  describe  in  very  eloquent  terms, 

Is  still,  upon  the  whole,  the  best  that  yet 

Has  graced  our  earth.    I  think  not  more  than  you 

Am  I  in  love  with  it ;   but,  looking  back, 

I  fail  to  see  a  better,  though  I  peer 

Into  remote  arboreal  history. 

OLDHAM 

When  I  was  six,  my  teachers  taught  me  that. 
Why,  one  would  think  that  you  had  never  heard 
Of  Greece  or  Italy ! 

FAUST 

And  what  were  they? 

Your  Renaissance,  despite  its  few  bright  gleams, 
Lies  like  a  swamp  of  darkness,  soaked  in  blood 
And  agony :    such  tortures  as  we  scarce 
Dream  of  to-day  writhe  through  it ;   and  the  stench 
Of  slaughtered  cities  and  corrupted  thrones  — 
Yes,  even  the  Papal  throne  —  draw  me  not  back 
With  longing  toward  it.     Rich  that  time  might  be 
If  one  were  Michael  Angelo;   but  how 
If  one  were  peasant,  or  meek  householder, 
When  the  Free  Captains  ravaged  to  and  fro, 
And  peoples  were  the  merest  pawns  of  kings 
Enslaved  by  mistresses?     The  more  I  look, 
The  more  evaporates  that  golden  haze 
Which  cloaks  the  past ;   the  more  I  doubt  if  men 
Had  ever  in  their  breasts  more  lofty  souls 
Than  those  we  know.     And  I  am  glad  to  be 
A  citizen  of  this  material  age. 
OLDHAM 

Congratulations  !  —  tempered  with  surprise 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  13 

At  finding  you,  beneath  your  lion's  skin, 
So  sweet  an  optimist  —  whose  faith  can  find 
All 's  for  the  best ;   and  the  best,  this  great  year 
Nineteen  Thirteen. 

FAUST 

Hardly  so  strong  as  that. 

OLDHAM 

Yes,  tell  me  that  the  golden  age  has  come ! 
FAUST 

I  quarrel  not  with  ages  —  but  with  man ; 
Whose  life  such  play  and  folly  seems  —  for  all 
Its  sweat  and  agony  —  that  laughter  lies 
The  sole  escape  from  madness.     I  peruse 
The  present  and  the  past,  only  to  find 
Mountains  of  human  effort  piled  aloft 
Like  the  Egyptian  Pyramids,  and  toward 
No  end  save  folly.  .  .  . 

All  is  foolishness ! 

In  Argolis,  a  woman,  somewhat  vain, 
Preferred  a  fop  to  her  own  rightful  lord 
And  ran  away ;   and  then  for  ten  long  years 
The  might  of  Hellas  on  the  Trojan  plain 
Grappled  in  conflict  such  as  had  been  mete 
To  guard  Olympus,  and  Scamander  ran 
Red  with  heroic  blood-drops.     And  they  got 
The  woman.    And  it  all  was  foolishness  !  .   .   . 
That  was  your  Golden  Age.    I  hope  you  like  it. 

Foolishness !  .  .  .     Once  a  mariner  set  forth, 
With  all  the  fires  of  heaven  lit  in  his  breast 
And  godlike  courage  on  his  brow,  to  find 


14  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

New  worlds  beyond  the  unknown  wastes  of  sea. 
He  sailed;   he  found;   he  died  in  rusty  chains: 
So  that,  to-day,  the  vermin  of  all  climes 
May  thither  flock,  and  there  renew  the  old 
Familiar  toil  toward  utter  foolishness.   .  .  . 

Why  all  this  labor  unto  vanity? 
Why  all  this  straining  toward  an  empty  end? 
OLDHAM 

Ah,  you  forget  what  Beauty  was  to  them ! 
We  are  quite  lost  to  that  high  touch  to-day. 
Beauty  hung  over  them,  a  star  to  draw 
Men's  aspiration.     That  divides  them  quite 
From  our  debased  modernity. 

FAUST 

Dear  Oldham ! 

My  dear  delightful  visionary  Oldham! 

What  an  adorer  of  the  past  you  are ! 
OLDHAM 

Yes,  I  adore  it  sacredly,  and  loathe 

To-day's  whole  content  —  except  you !    I  loathe  it 

So  much  that,  if  I  had  the  dynamite, 

I  'd  blow  it  all  —  and  you  and  me  ourselves  — 

Into  a  nebula  of  dust.  .  .  .     Ah,  well, 

We  hardly  can  decide  these  things  to-night, 

Can  we?    I  must  be  off,  little  as  I  like, 

To  end  our  midnight  talking. 

FAUST 

Oh,  not  yet! 

OLDHAM 

I  must ;   this  is  not  good  for  me :   I  fear 

To  let  myself  dwell  on  these  restless  thoughts 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  15 

Which  with  a  perilous  longing  sometimes  make 

My  actual  days  so  bitter  that  despair 

Grips  me  in  horror.     And  besides,  I  'm  due 

To  pick  my  brother  up.    I  have,  you  see, 

The  limousine  to-night,  and  that  entails 

Its  obligations.     Dear  modernity! 

Whose  Saviour  is  the  limousine !  .  .  .  Good  night ! 

FAUST 

Good  night.    May  all  the  Furies  and  the  Gorgons 
Of  Greece  and  Florence  leave  you  in  repose 
To  dream  to-night  of  white-limbed  goddesses 
And  painters  like  archangels ! 

OLDHAM 

I  deserve  it ! 

And  yet  I  fear  they  will  not  be  so  kind.  .  .  . 
Sleep  is  no  friend  to  me  these  many  nights. 
I  do  not  know  what  wrong  I  can  have  done 
That  so  offends  her  she  will  none  of  me. 
One  of  these  days,  she  will  carry  it  too  far.   .   .   . 
\_0ldham  goes  out.     Faust  turns  out  all  but  two  of 
the  lights;    then  seats  himself  wearily  before  the  fire. 
The  room  is  dark  around  his  lighted  figure. 

FAUST 

The  play  drags,  and  the  players  would  begone, 

Out  of  this  theatre  of  tinsel  days 

And  lights  and  tawdry  glamour,  out  to  face 

Even  the  blank  of  night,  the  icy  stars, 

The  vast  abysses.     What  the  gallery-gods 

Could  give,  they  well  have  given ;   but  deities 

Inscrutabler  than  they  annul  all  gifts 

With  one  gift  more  —  the  restless  mind  that  peers 

Past  fame,  friends,  learning,  fortune,  to  enquire: 


16  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

Whither?      Whither?      Whither?      And   no   answer 

comes 
To  the  cold  player's  lips.  .  .  . 

I  see  too  much 

To  make  my  peace  with  any  ordered  role 
And  play  it  heartily.     To-day's  thin  coin 
Pays  not  my  labors ;    and  to-morrow's  hope 
Has  never  been  authenticated  to  me 
By  a  fulfilling  hour  when  I  might  say : 
"  Lo,  this  is  what  I  hoped !  "    The  vision  flies 
As  I  advance;   while  always  far  ahead 
Its  glow  makes  dim  the  color  of  my  days ; 
And  I  loathe  life  because  my  hope  is  fairer, 
And  know  my  hope  a  lie.    Thus,  Faust,  my  friend, 
You  damn  yourself  ingeniously  to  hells 
Of  rich  variety.   .  .  . 

The  eyes  of  men 

Envy  me  as  I  pass  them  in  the  street  — 
Me,  whom  sufficient  fortune,  moderate  fame, 
Have  made  completely  happy  in  their  sight. 
Well,  I  am  no  barbarian :   let  them  have 
The  bliss  of  envying.  .  .  .     But  I  am  sick 
With  the  hour's  emptiness;    and  great  desire 
Fills  me  for  those  high  beauties  which  my  dreams 
Yearn  ever  toward.     I  am  weary ;   I  would  go 
Out  to  some  golden  sunset-lighted  land 
Of  silence. 

I  have  been  athirst  of  dreams ! 
And  all  earth's  common  goals  and  gifts  have  been 
But  fuel  to  flame.     O  strange  and  piteous  heart! 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  17 

0  credulous  and  visionary  heart ! 
Desirous  of  the  infinite  —  from  defeat 
Arising  still  to  grope  again  for  light 
And  the  high  word  of  vision !    And  in  vain ! 
Till,  not  having  found,  its  bitterness  corrodes 
Inward  —  like  one  betrayed  by  his  last  god.  .  .  . 

Strange,  that  my  father  was  a  worthy  man ! 
Perhaps  't  is  his  blood  in  me  that  withholds 
Unreasoning  my  hand  from  washing  clear 
This  scribbled  slate  with  one  quick  tide  of  peace. 
Would  more  of  him  were  in  me !   that  like  him 

1  might  spend  eagerly  a  useful  life 
In  medicining  miserable  men 

Who  were  better  dead  —  employ  my  force 
To  aid  a  world  within  whose  marrow  dwells 
An  evil  none  can  cure,  an  agony 
Beyond  our  dearest  aiding. 

Ah,  well,  well! 

Such  are  the  great  men  of  this  busy  world, 
Whose  ardor  for  the  game  is  anodyne 
Against  its  buffets,  and  intoxicant 
To  lend  it  reveller's  meaning.     Ardor  given, 
All  things  are  possible.  .  .  . 

You,  old  marble-face, 

Who  front  me  from  the  corner  with  that  grave 
Virtuous  Father-of-your-Country  look, 
I  pay  you  my  respects ;   you  are  a  light 
Of  leading,  as  I  see  you  now.     Your  soul 
Was  never  shaken  by  convulsive  doubts 
Of  life  or  man  or  liberty ;   you  built 


18  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

Unsceptical  of  bricks,  but  such  as  lay 
To  hand  you  took,  nor  did  your  purpose  shake 
At  prescient  thought  of  how  your  edifice 
Might  be  turned  pest-house  some  day.     Undismayed 
By  doubt,  you  rose,  and  in  heroic  mould 
Led  —  dauntless,  patient,  incorruptible  — 
A  riot  over  taxes.     Not  a  star 
In  all  the  vaults  of  heaven  could  trouble  you 
With  whisperings  of  more  transcendent  goals. 
O  despicable,  admirable  man ! 
How  much  I  envy  you  —  the  devil  take  you ! 
[The   bust   of    Washington  and   its   pedestal   move 
slightly;  gradually  they  change  and  shape  themselves 
into  the  figure  of  a  well-dressed  man,  rather  short 
and  stocky,  with  a  sociable,  commonplace  face.     His 
head,  however,  is  very  peculiarly  modelled;    it  re 
minds  one,  indescribably  and  faintly,  of  the  fact  that 
men  sprang  from  beasts.     The  high  position  of  the 
ears  help  this  impression,  as  does  also  the  astonish 
ing  animal  brilliance  of  the  eyes.     Faust,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead,  turns  away. 

FAUST 

This  is  what  comes  of  smoking  far  too  much. 
SATAN 

Good  evening,  Mr.  Faust. 
FAUST 

Well,  I '11  be  damned!  .  .  . 

And  who,  I  beg,  are  you? 
SATAN 

I  ask  your  pardon 

For  thus  appearing  in  a  way  unknown 

To  strict  convention.    But  I  never  set 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  19 

Great  store  by  custom ;   and  though  nowadays 

I  follow  the  proprieties,  still  I  feel 

That  one  need  not  be  slavish  — 
FAUST 

Who  are  you? 

What  are  you  talking  of?    How  did  you  get  here? 
SATAN 

I  am,  sir,  Nicholas  Satan,  at  your  service. 
FAUST 

Nicholas  Satan !    Quite  a  name.    Perhaps 

Some  relative  of  the  illustrious  one? 
SATAN 

Himself. 
FAUST 

Stop  this  cheap  foolishness!    Who  are  you? 

Or  shall  I  ring  for  the  police? 
SATAN 

I  am 

Satan.    If  I  appeared  with  colored  fire 

And  lightnings  round  me,  you  would  doubt  no  more. 

But  like  your  narrow  and  near-sighted  age, 

You  know  me  not  in  my  own  natural  shape. 

Now  let  this  end !    Here  is  my  proof.    You  once 

Summoned  me  to  your  aid,  and,  when  I  came, 

Weakly  rejected  me.     You  were  a  boy 

In  college,  and  a  woman  blackmailed  you  — 

A  low,  crude  matter.     I  had  settled  it 

Swiftly,  if  you  had  let  me.    We  alone, 

We   three,   on   Harvard  Bridge  —  night  —  and  be 
neath, 

A  practicable  river :   ah,  it  was 

A  child's  task !    But  you  faltered.  .  .  .    You  recall, 

Possibly. 


20 MR.    FAUST [ACT  i 

FAUST 

I  recall.  ...     So  you  are  he. 
I  did  not  know  you. 

SATAN 

Let 's  forget  the  past. 
We  meet  now  under  happier  auspices. 
FAUST 

Incredible. 

SATAN 

No,  quite  an  honest  fact 
Ami. 

FAUST 

I  hardly  can  persuade  myself 
Whether  to  laugh  or  pull  a  solemn  face 
At  seeing  you.    It  is  preposterous ! 
I  thought  that  you  were  dead  —  a  myth  —  a  wraith. 
SATAN 

Dead?    That  is  rich! 

FAUST 

Well  .  .  .  don't  you  think  yourself 
A  slight  anachronism? 
SATAN 

My  young  friend, 

I  am  no  laughing  matter.     With  the  times 
I,  too,  have  changed,  and  am  as  up-to-date 
As  the  Ritz-Carlton. 
FAUST 

But  your  horns  and  tail 
And  pitchfork?    Not  a  vestige  do  I  see 
Of  your  famed  look !    You  have  no  frightful  glance ; 
I  cannot  even  so  far  flatter  you 
As  to  say  special  badness  makes  your  face 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  21 

Great  and  distinguished.    If  you  're  Prince  of  Hell, 
How  villanously  have  the  poets  lied ! 

SATAN 

They  have  lied,  always,  horribly,  of  me! 

I  am  not  half  so  black  as  they  allege. 

You  know,  exaggeration  is  to  them 

What  whiskey  is  to  most  men.     But  time  bursts 

Their  bubbles  —  or  at  least  we  come  to  take 

Their  work  as  merely  art.     Thus  their  description 

As  art  is  not  so  bad ;   but  if  you  seek 

For  truth,  it  's  outright  libel. 

FAUST 

I  admit 

It  has  a  certain  perfectness  of  evil 
Lacking  in  you. 

SATAN 

Surely  to-day  we  know 
That  nothing  is  so  wholly  good  or  bad 
As  our  forefathers  thought:   not  black  and  white, 
But  gray,  predominates.    Well,  I  am  gray, 
Possibly.    I  was  never  black ;   and  age 
Has  made  me  stouter,  and  with  gentle  warmth 
Ripened  my  virtues ;   and,  even  though  I  say  it, 
You  will  not  find  me  a  bad  sort  to  meet 
If  you  will  but  be  fair,  and  put  aside 
Your  ancient  and  poetic  prejudice. 

FAUST 

Well  spoken !    And  well  met !    Come,  have  a  drink. 

You  are  the  most  diverting  visitor 

I  've  had  in  many  a  day.     Bourbon  or  Scotch? 

SATAN 

A  very  little  Scotch.    That 's  plenty,  thanks. 
It 's  very  seldom  those  who  summon  me 


22  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

Would  give,  not  take.    And  did  you  send  for  me 
Only  to  have  a  drink? 
FAUST 

I  sent  for  you? 

SATAN 

Did  you  not  summon  me? 
FAUST 

Why,  no  — 

SATAN 

Ah,  well! 

It  's  my  mistake ;    wires  get  crossed  sometimes. 
I  hope  I  've  not  intruded. 
FAUST 

Not  at  all. 

Delighted  to  have  met  you. 
SATAN 

I  regret 

That  I  have  bothered  you.    I  have  enjoyed, 
However,  your  kind  hospitality. 
To  make  amends  to  you,  before  I  go, 
I  should  be  glad  to  do  you  any  service 
Within  my  power. 
FAUST 

I  thank  you ;   but  I  think 
That  there  is  nothing  in  your  special  line 
That  I  have  need  of. 

SATAN 

Are  you  really,  then, 
A  man  contented? 
FAUST 

I  would  hardly  go 
As  far  as  that !  .  .  .    I  only  meant  to  say 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  23 

My  needs,  my  troubles,  are  not  of  such  kind 
As  you  could  remedy. 

SATAN 

Now,  there  again 

You  take  the  poets'  word  for  me  —  those  low 
And  scurvy  fellows  who  lump  all  their  spleen 
And  call  the  mess  my  portrait !     But  in  fact, 
I  am  more  versatile,  more  broad,  more  kind 
Than  they  conceive.     I  venture  to  believe 
That  I  could  aid  you. 

FAUST 

All  the  fiends  in  Hell 
Lack  devilry  enough. 

SATAN 

If  you  would  speak 

The  symptoms  of  your  trouble,  I  at  least 
Could  give  you  friendly  counsel  for  your  needs.  .  .  . 
Oh,  I  am  deeply  learned ! 

FAUST 

And  besides, 

A  most  accomplished  mocker !  .  .  .     My  complaint 
Is  quite  beyond  your  counsel.    Why,  I  tell  you, 
I  have  examined,  tried,  experienced 
The  passions  and  the  aims  of  mortal  life 
With  the  grave  thoroughness  and  good  intent 
That  mark  a  doctor  of  philosophy 
Writing  his  thesis.     And  my  careful  search 
Of  life  has  brought  me  one  great  verity : 
I  do  not  like  it!    No,  I  do  not  like 
Anything  in  it :   birth,  death,  all  that  lies 
Between  —  I  find  inadequate,  incomplete, 
Offensive.     So  you  see  me  sitting  here, 
Instead  of  talking  politics  in  the  streets, 


24  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

Or  weeping  at  the  opera,  or  agog 

At  a  cotillon.     For  the  savor  's  gone 

From  these,  as  parts  of  an  unsavored  whole. 

I  simply  have,  with  reason  and  sound  thought, 

Convinced  myself  that  only  fools  attain 

Their  hope  on  earth  —  in  a  fools'  paradise 

That  does  not  interest  me.   .  .  .  Now,  could  you  treat 

This  case,  good  Mr.  Satan? 

SATAN 

In  my  day, 

I  have  relieved  far  sicker  men  than  you, 
My  dear  friend  Faust.     And  yet  I  would  not  say 
Even  for  a  moment  that  your  case  is  not 
A  grave  one:   not  so  much  the  case  itself, 
As  what  might  spring  from  it.     In  such  a  mood, 
Men  sometimes  have  done  mad  and  foolish  things 
With  consequences  sad  to  view.     Some  minds, 
Reaching  your  state,  and  finding  life  a  bane, 
Decide  within  themselves  that  naught  can  be 
Worse  than  the  present  world,  and  then  set  out 
To  revolutionize,  rend,  whirl,  uproot 
The  world's  foundations.    And  the  mess  they  make 
Is  pitiful  to  contemplate!     Such  sweet 
And  beautiful  souls  as  I  have  seen  go  wrong 
Along  this  path :    Shelley  —  he  had  your  eyes ; 
And  Christ  —  but  I  '11  not  talk  theology. 
Besides,  his  churches  almost  have  made  good 
His  personal  havoc.  .  .  . 

FAUST 

That  is  not  my  line. 

SATAN 

No,  no,  you  keep  your  head !    Now  let  me  see.  .  .  . 
A  temporary  sedative  you  require 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  25 

To  bridge  the  dangerous  moment.     I  suggest 
A  little  course  that  old  Saint  Anthony, 
Epicure  though  he  was,  would  grant  as  rare 
And  finely  chosen :   careless  days  and  nights  — 
Delicious  gayeties  —  the  Bacchic  bowl  — 
Exquisite  company  from  whom  some  two 
Or  three,  with  golden  or  with  auburn  hair, 
A  man  of  taste  might  choose  to  solace  him 
In  sunlight  or  in  starlight  —  while  the  lure 
Of  subtle  secrets  in  those  yielding  breasts 
Spice  the  preceding  revelries.  .  .  . 

FAUST 

Go  tell 

That  tale  to  college  boys,  whose  lonely  dreams 
Have  shaped  Iseult  of  Ireland,  Helen  of  Troy, 
As  end  of  heart's  desire  —  and,  lacking  these, 
Clasp  chorus- Aphrodites.    But  I  know 
That  from  the  topmost  peak  of  ecstasy 
Falls  a  straight  precipice ;  half-times  the  foot 
Misses  the  peak  —  but  never  mortal  step 
Has  missed  the  gulf  beyond  it.     And  I  see 
Where,  in  night's  gorgeous  dome,  to-morrow  waits 
With  cold  insistence.     Me  you  cannot  lure 
With  this  poor  opiate.    And  I  beg  of  you 
Not  needlessly  to  tax  your  mental  powers 
By  now  suggesting  the  delights  of  drink: 
I  know  them;    and  they  give  me  headaches. 

SATAN 

Ah, 
How  crude  you  think  me! 

FAUST 

No,  I  think  you  human. 
We  all  are  that  sometimes. 


26  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

SATAN 

You  have  not  grasped 
All  that  I  meant.    I  know  the  calfish  joys 
Of  the  young  freshman,  suddenly  let  loose 
With  chorus-girls  for  nursemaids,  are  not  yours. 
I  mean  far  subtler  things :   I  mean  the  play 
Of  the  wise  soul  that  sees  the  abyss  of  life  — 
Sees  the  grim  measure  of  the  mortal  doom  — 
And  over  that  dark  gulf  in  reckless  mirth 
Dances  on  rainbows,  with  delightful  arms 
And  bosoms  close  to  his.     That  is  a  mood 
That  always  thrills  me  with  a  sense  of  large 
And  splendid  courage.     If  I  did  not  think 
That  it  would  bore  you,  I  should  like  to  make 
My  meaning  clear  by  reading  a  few  lines 
That  I  once  wrote  when  I  myself  was  in 
Your  very  mood  —    Or  would  you  care  to  hear 
My  little  poem? 

FAUST 

What !    Is  even  the  Devil 
A  poet  nowadays? 

SATAN 

Indeed  he  is: 

And  not  a  bad  one.     Once  I  would  have  scorned 
The  poets ;   but  we  moderns  so  surpass 
The  ancients  here  that  I  am  proud  to  write 
Some  verses  now  and  then.    For  we  have  learned 
That  poetry,  like  all  the  other  arts, 
Is  pure  technique :   the  mere  ideas  are  nothing, 
The  form  is  everything.     That  ennobles  us 
And  makes  us  artists.     And  as  artist,  I 
Am  not  contemptible,  as  you  may  see 
From  this  slight  sample.    With  your  leave,  I  '11  read. 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  27 

(Satan  produces  an  enormous  scrap-book  of  maga 
zine-clippings,  turns  over  the  pages  and  at  last  begins 
to  read) 

A  WATTEATJ  MELODY 

Oh,  let  me  take  your  lily  hand, 
And  where  the  secret  star-beams  shine 
Draw  near,  to  see  and  understand 
Pierrot  and  Columbine. 

Around  the  fountains,  in  the  dew. 
Where  afternoon  melts  into  night, 
With  gracious  mirth  their  gracious  crew 
Entice  the  shy  birds  of  delight. 

Of  motley  dress  and  masked  face, 
Of  sparkling  unrevealing  eyes, 
They  track  in  gentle  aimless  chase 
The  moment  as  it  flies. 

Their  delicate  beribboned  rout, 
Gallant  and  fair,  of  light  intent, 
Weaves  through  the  shadows  in  and  out 
With  infinite  artful  merriment. 

Dear  lady  of  the  lily  hand  — 
Do  then  our  stars  so  clearly  shine 
That  we,  who  do  not  understand, 
May  mock  Pierrot  and  Columbine? 

Beyond  this  garden-grove  I  see 
The  wise,  the  noble,  and  the  brave 
In  ultimate  futility 
Go  down  into  the  grave. 


28  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

And  all  they  dreamed  and  all  they  sought, 
Crumbled  and  ashen  grown,  departs; 
And  is  as  if  they  had  not  wrought 
These  works  with  blood  from  out  their  hearts. 

The  nations  fall,  the  faiths  decay, 
The  great  philosophies  go  by  — 
And  life  lies  bare,  some  bitter  day, 
A  charnel  that  affronts  the  sky. 

The  wise,  the  noble,  and  the  brave  — 
They  saw  and  solved  —  as  we  must  see 
And  solve  —  the  universal  grave, 
The  ultimate  futility. 

Look  —  where  beside  the  garden-pool 
A  Venus  rises  in  the  grove, 
More  suave,  more  debonair,  more  cool 
Than  ever  burned  with  Paphian  love. 

'T  was  here  the  delicate  ribboned  rout 
Of  gallants  and  the  fair  ones  went 
Among  the  shadows  in  and  out 
With  infinite  artful  merriment. 

Then  let  me  take  your  lily  hand, 
And  let  us  tread,  where  star-beams  shine, 
A  dance;   and  be,  and  understand 
Pierrot  and  Columbine. 

FAUST 

Splendid !    Delightful ! 

SATAN 

You  are  flattering  me. 
How  did  you  like  it,  really? 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  29 

FAUST 

Well,  as  art 

I  think  it  splendid;   as  philosophy, 
I  hardly  praise  it.     'T  is  a  mood  that  comes 
And  has  its  will  of  us  in  its  own  hours  — 
Yes,  irresistibly.     But  past  the  hour 
Wait  graver  judges.     I  decline  to  be, 
As  you  suggest  delightfully,  a  fly 
On  the  spoiled  beer  of  life.    Nor  do  I  lean 
Toward  your  ingenious  blending  of  despair, 
Satiety,  and  child's-play. 

SATAN 

Those  who  take 

This  attitude,  however,  swiftly  grow 
The  darlings  of  existence  —  souls  that  sip 
Of  every  flower  the  nectar,  and  are  bound 
Unto  no  laws  or  standards,  but  move  free, 
Viewing  all  things   as   relative.  .  .  .  And  yet 
Your  special  temperament  may  not  prefer 
Nectar.     Those  lines  of  sternness  round  your  mouth 
Convince  me  you  are  right ;   another  cure 
Better  befits  you.    And  a  mighty  one 
I  set  before  you,  which  has  ever  served 
As  lodestar  for  all  high  and  glorious  minds, 
All  kings  of  earth,  all  potentates  of  thought, 
All  great  achievers.     Power  I  offer  you  — 
The  one  chief  prize  that  all  men  have  desired 
And  shall  desire  forever. 

FAUST 

Now  you  grow 

Rather  more  interesting.    What  do  you  mean? 
A  crown  and  sceptre  and  a  thousand  slaves 
To  serve  me? 


30  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

SATAN 

Do  not  jest.    I  offer  you 
The  one  sole  reservoir  where  power  to-day 
Lies  stored  in  sleeping  cataracts.     At  noon 
Come  with  me  into  Wall  Street ;   take  your  stand ; 
Buy,  sell,  as  I  direct  you ;   and  one  hour 
Shall  make  you  richer  than  you  ever  dreamed 
In  madness  of  desire.     For  three  days  more 
Come  there  each  noon  again;    at  end  of  these, 
If  you  have  done  my  bidding,  you  shall  be 
Master  of  the  finances  of  the  world, 
Despot  of  nations,  unto  whom  the  kings 
And  captains  of  the  earth  shall  kneel  to  crave 
Crumbs  from  the  table.    Then  let  pen  and  sword 
Forget  their  quarrel  for  supremacy; 
Since  you  can  buy  them  both,  or  starve  them  both, 
Or  cast  them  to  the  wilderness !     Such  power 
I  offer  as  would  make  the  pulses  beat 
Even  of  a  skeleton! 

FAUST 

But  not  a  soul 

Grown  sceptical  of  life.    Power?    Power?    For  what? 
And  over  what?     And  toward  what?     Not  a  power 
Over  myself  or  pain  or  loneliness 
Or  ignorance  or  evil ;   not  a  strength 
To  bid  the  near-world  cease,  and  in  its  place 
Instate  my  visions  beautiful  and  pale, 
Nearer  the  heart's  desire.     No,  you  would  give 
Power  to  direct  the  miseries  of  men, 
But  not  to  stay  them :  power  to  hold  the  world 
As  some  cold  robber -baron  from  his  rocks 
Once  held  his  little  valley:   power  to  sit 
In  ultimate  seclusion,  and  look  down 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  31 

On  streets  and  mines  and  workshops  with  the  sense 
That  I  was  fountain  of  the  miseries 
Dark  in  them  all.     I  thank  you ;   but  I  think 
I  should  derive  small  sport  from  such  a  game. 
You  see,  I  am  not  Satan. 
SATAN 

Well,  you  are 

A  subtle  one,  a  shrewd  one !    On  my  word, 
I  hardly  had  suspected  you  so  deep. 
What  time  I  have  been  wasting!     Mr.  Faust, 
At  last  I  know  you  for  a  prince  of  men  — 
A  brilliant  mind,  a  high  intelligence, 
A  spirit  incorruptible.     The  trash, 
Baubles  and  claptrap  which  the  foolish  herd 
Snatch  at,  you  scoff  —  and  rightly.     I  will  not 
With  one  more  word  of  it  insult  your  mind 
That  admirably  penetrates  to  deeps 
Where  I,  too,  love  to  dwell.    I  put  aside 
All  trivialities,  and  frankly  say 
That  I  can  offer  you  one  ultimate  gift 
Fit  even  for  you  —  a  subtle  paradise 
Such  as  not  Hercules  mid  Western  Isles 
Found  in  the  Garden  of  Hesperides. 
It  is  a  paradise  of  secret  peace, 
A  glorious  land  of  amaranthine  bloom ; 
Where  happiness,  having  fled  the  world,  now  dwells 
In  shining  gladness.    Guarded,  deep,  sublime 
With  lights  and  shadows,  lies  it:    there  have  hearts 
The  weariest  and  the  greatest  of  mankind 
Found  perfect  refuge  and  abiding-place 
For  time  and  for  eternity.     To  few 
Its  gates  are  open:   it  I  promise  you 
If  you  but  trust  me ! 


MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 


FAUST 

But  why  should  I  trust  you? 
If  history  speaks  true,  you  have  deceived 
All  who,  since  Eve,  have  put  their  faith  in  you. 
Further,  your  paradise  could  hardly  have 
Joys  in  it  worth  the  grasping,  to  my  taste. 
So  pardon  me  if  frankly  I  admit 
I  doubt  your  promise. 

SATAN 

Ah,  you  are  wholly  wrong! 

I  am  quite  honest  with  you,  now  having  learned 
Your  true  capacity. 

FAUST 

Perhaps,  perhaps. 
And  yet  I  must  decline. 

SATAN 

You  doubt  me  still. 
But  I  will  prove  my  utter  honesty 
Beyond  contention.     In  my  deepest  soul, 
I  know  this  paradise  will  serve  your  need ; 
And  to  make  plain  to  you  my  fair  intent, 
I  offer  you  a  bargain  whose  clear  terms 
Must  drive  your  doubts  away.     I  am  prepared 
To  pledge  myself  to  be  your  abject  slave 
And  servant  for  all  time  if  you  yourself 
Do  not  acknowledge  that  my  paradise 
Delights  you  wholly! 

FAUST 

Well!    That  is  an  offer ! 

SATAN 

What  could  be  fairer?    You  yourself  shall  judge; 
And  you  risk  nothing.     Ah,  your  look  still  doubts! 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST 


You  have  in  mind  those  libellous  poets'  tales 

Of  bonds  inscribed  in  blood  which  I  exact 

In  payment,  and  destroy  men's  souls !    My  friend, 

Have  I  yet  asked  you  for  a  bond  of  blood? 

And  if  I  ever  do,  I  give  you  leave 

To  wring  my  neck  unceremoniously. 

FAUST 

Well,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  cannot  read  you ! 

Yet  let  me  ask:    why  such  an  eager  will 

To  serve  a  man  into  whose  rooms  you  came 

By  chance  to-night?     Why  give  yourself  such  pains 

To  furnish  him  a  paradise? 

SATAN 

There  is 

No  mystery  in  that.    I  would  ally 
You  to  myself. 

FAUST 

Thanks,  I  decline. 

SATAN 

You  fail 

To  understand  me.     For  I  ask  not  this 
As  promise  of  you. 

FAUST 

What,  then,  do  you  mean? 

What  do  you  count  on?     Whence  do  you  expect 
Pay  for  your  trouble  and  your  risk  —  a  risk 
Not  trivial,  I  warn  you? 

SATAN 

Let  me  make 

The  matter  clear  to  you.     I  know  quite  well 
The  risk  is  nothing,  since  my  paradise 
Will  utterly  delight  you.     Granting  this, 


34  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

You  see  my  profit :   you  will  stay  with  me 
Willingly  there  forever,  to  my  ends 
An  interested  assistant.     I  will  serve 
Forth  on  my  tables  such  delicious  fare 
That  you  will  freely  choose  to  be  my  guest 
Through  time  and  through  eternity.     I  say: 
Fie  for  a  bond  written  in  scrawly  blood ! 
A  bond  of  choice  is  better.     Could  a  saint 
Speak  fairer  to  you?    I  risk  everything, 
And  you  risk  nothing  but  a  little  time ; 
And  time,  as  you  are  placed,  seems  not  so  dear 
That  you  need  hoard  it. 

FAUST 

But  your  ends  are  —  what? 

SATAN 

How  can  it  matter  now  —  if  seeing  them 
You  shall  approve  them? 

FAUST 

Are  you  serious? 

SATAN 

My  jests  have  other  aspect. 
FAUST 

I  accept. 

Your  game  is  to  my  taste.     For  thirty  years 
Have  I  made  search  through  all  the  lands  of  earth, 
The  realms  of  learning,  and  the  tangled  groves 
Of  fancy,  for  some  region  which  my  soul 
Might  with  entire  approval  view;   but  none 
Has  been  vouchsafed  me.     If  the  Devil  can 
In  this  surpass  the  world's  established  powers, 
Then  I  am  his  disciple  willingly.   .   .   . 
But  if  you  fail,  friend  Satan !  —  I  shall  tie 
You  to  a  cart's  tail  and  exhibit  you 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  35 

Like  a  dead  whale  throughout  the  country  —  or 
Make  you  curator  of  an  orphanage! 

SATAN 

I  shall  not  fail. 

OLDHAM  (enters) 

I  beg  your  pardon,  Faust ; 
I  thought  you  'd  be  alone.     My  brother  left, 
Not  waiting  for  me ;   and,  as  I  passed  by, 
I  saw  your  lights,  and  thought  I  would  look  in 
Just  for  a  moment.     I  had  things  to  say 
That  are  perhaps  much  better  left  unsaid. 
Good-bye,  my  dear  friend.    I  will  not  disturb  you. 
Good  night  again. 

FAUST 

Wait,  Oldham ;   do  not  go. 
I  have  a  visitor  whose  name  you  know, 
But  not,  perhaps,  his  person.     Let  me  have 
The  pleasure  of  presenting  you.     This  is 
The  Devil  —  Mr.  Oldham. 

OLDHAM 

You  are  mad! 
What  jest  is  this? 

SATAN 

I  am  indeed  the  Devil. 

Look  in  my  eyes  intently.  .  .  .  Shall  I  tell  you 
Your  thought,  two  minutes  since  ?  .   .   .  Or  what  you 

hold 
Clutched  now  against  your  side?  .  .  .  Or  where  you 

90 

When  you  go  hence  to-night?  .  .  . 
OLDHAM 

No!  ...  I  believe  you.  .  .  . 
Although  it  is  incredible !  .  .   . 


36  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  i 

FAUST 

You  come 

Just  at  the  proper  moment  for  good-bye, 
For  I  am  going  with  him  on  a  journey, 
And  do  not  know  how  soon  I  shall  return. 
If  I  return  at  all. 
OLDHAM 

A  journey?     Where? 
SATAN 

To  paradise. 

FAUST 

He  offers  paradise 

That  will  suffice  my  wish,  and  gives  himself 
As  pledge  of  his  success. 

SATAN 

Come,  we  must  haste, 
For  it  is  very  far. 
FAUST 

To  paradise!  .  .  . 

OLDHAM 

To  paradise.  .  .  .  Take  me  with  you! 
FAUST 

My  friend, 

It  is  not  possible.     I  do  foresee 
Some  perils  to  whose  touch  I  would  subject 
None  save  myself. 

OLDHAM 

And  what  care  I  for  them! 

Faust  —  on  my  word,  when  I  climbed  up  your  stair 
This  second  time,  it  was  to  say  good-bye 
To  you  forever,  being  quite  resolved 
To  end  my  choking  loneliness  and  loathing 
With  a  quick  shot  to-night.     Take  me,  or  I 


ACT  i]  MR.    FAUST  37 

Shall  carry  out  my  purpose.     What  care  I 
Whither  you  go,  or  what  the  perils  be? 
I  would  go  with  you  into  Hell! 
SATAN 

We  go 
To  paradise.     What  is  this  Hell  you  name? 

CURTAIN 


THE    SECOND    ACT 

The  scene  is  the  stone-paved  courtyard  of  a  ruined 
temple.  In  the  centre  lies  a  square  pool,  with  wide 
rows  of  steps  leading  down  to  the  water,  now  over 
grown  with  lotus  plants.  Around  the  court  rise  long 
colonnades  of  pillars  with  grotesquely  carven  bases  and 
capitals  of  luxuriant  design.  Beyond  these  appear 
green  masses  of  dense  tropical  foliage,  in  which  an  oc 
casional  brilliant  flower  shines. 

Faust,  Satan  and  Oldham,  all  wearing  white  tropical 
dress  and  sun-helmets,  are  seated  on  fragments  of 
fallen  columns  in  front  of  the  pool.  Luncheon  is  spread 
before  them.  Oldham  is  lighting  a  cigarette;  Faust  is 
just  finishing  his  meal;  Satan  is  leaning  back,  con 
templating  the  surrounding  jungle.  Two  dark-skinned 
servants,  wearing  white  robes  and  turbans,  are  begin 
ning  to  bear  away  the  repast. 

OLDHAM 

One's  blood  beats  fuller  in  these  tropic  lands. 
Last  night,  as  we  were  dining,  where  the  beach 
With  its  plumed  palm-trees  sloped  to  meet  the  sea, 
And  the  white  foam  along  the  glassy  waves 
Played  in  the  evening  light  —  I  half  believe 
I  could  have  written  love-songs.     But  to  whom  — 
That  were  a  problem! 

FAUST 

Yes,  one's  brain  is  lit 
With  fire  beneath  this  sun.     At  night,  the  glow 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  39 

Is  magical;    but  at  this  height  of  day, 

When  all  the  branches  and  the  flowers  and  rocks 

And  the  far  glimmering  rivers  shake  and  writhe 

In  the  fierce  blaze,  I  feel  a  hideous  touch 

Of  madness  in  it. 

SATAN 

Keep  you  to  the  shade! 
This  is  the  pinnacle,  the  very  noon 
Of  summer  in  these  lands.     One  hour  of  sun 
Unshaded  —  and  poor  Oldham  and  poor  I 
Might  have  a  maniac  or  a  corpse  as  guest. 
OLDHAM 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  would  help  you  with  him. 
I  might  be  elsewhere  occupied.     Last  night 
I  entertained  myself  with  imaging 
A  project  which,  if  I  adopted  it, 
Would  preengage  me. 

SATAN 

With  a  single  guess, 
I  '11  tell  you  what  it  was. 

OLDHAM 

I  give  you  twenty. 

SATAN 

You  thought  perhaps  it  would  be  nice  to  be 
The  white  bull  we  saw  yesterday,  and  eat 
Without  reproof  from  every  vender's  stall 
Throughout  the  whole  bazar;    and  you  intend 
Thus  to  disguise  yourself,  and  try  the  sport. 

OLDHAM 

You  hit  it  nearer  than  I  thought  you  would ! 
'T  was  something  like  that.     I  was  wondering 
If,  in  this  marvellous  and  lazy  clime, 
It  were  not  possible  for  one  to  take 


40  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

Twenty  young  beauties  and  a  hundred  slaves  — 
Retire  to  some  secluded  isle  of  palms  — 
And  live  without  a  thought,  a  wish,  a  hope, 
Drugged  with  the  warmth,  the  languor  and  the  light. 

FAUST 

Possible?  —  For  a  rabbit!     Not  for  you. 

SATAX 

I  am  afraid  you  'd  find  it  wearisome. 
Some  like  it;   but  not  your  kind. 

FAUST 

In  this  heat 

Even  he  grows  crazy;    and  we,  Satan,  turn 
Unsympathetic  creatures.     Whew,  this  blaze 
Is  getting  worse!     Can't  we  move  on? 

SATAN 

We  go 
No  farther. 

FAUST 

Lovely  residence! 

SATAN 

It  is  here 

That  our  long  journey  terminates,  my  friends. 
Upon  this  spot  I  trust,  if  all  goes  well, 
To  give  your  long-tried  patience  recompense. 

FAUST 

Recompense?     I  am  sceptical  of  it! 
But  we  deserve  this.     None  but  idiots 
Would  have  come  with  you  to  this  boiling  land 
On  a  wild-goose  chase;    on  each  step  of  which 
One  gets  a  fleeting  panoramic  view 
Of  kinds  of  misery  one  did  not  guess 
Existed  in  the  world.     Those  lepers,  beggars, 
Cripples,  fanatics,  reptiles  —  all  the  swarms 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  41 

Of  loathsome  creatures  we  have  passed  —  will  haunt 
My  dreams  forever  with  new  vivid  masks 
Of  nightmare.     Recompense?     There  isn't  any! 
SATAN 

Await  the  event.     You  shall  have  recompense. 

OLDHAM 

Satan,  what  is  your  meaning?    What  event 
Do  you  await  here?     You  have  been  to  us, 
Through  our  long  journey,  secretive  and  close 
Of  all  your  purposes  —  from  day  to  day 
Giving  no  hint  of  your  to-morrow's  plan 
Nor  of  our  destination.     Now,  I  think, 
Silence  is  not  a  virtue.     Have  we  come 
In  fact  to  our  last  halt? 

SATAN 

This  is  the  spot 

Toward  which  our  course  unswervingly  has  aimed 
Since  the  first  day.     This  vast  and  ruined  shrine, 
Built  in  forgotten  times  to  unknown  gods, 
And  now  in  timeless  solitude  enfolded, 
Has  long  been  known  to  me.     Here,  in  retreat 
From  the  world's  noises,  dwells  a  holy  man, 
A  wonder-worker  of  unfathomed  power, 
Now  long  forgotten  by  the  troubled  world 
Except  me  only.     'T  is  his  aged  hand 
Shall  open  to  you  those  celestial  gates 
We  come  to  enter. 

FAFST 

Ah,  a  wonder-worker! 
Perhaps  he  will  perform  the  mango  trick, 
Or  the  rope-climbing,  or  the  boy-in-the-basket? 
The  jugglers  here  have  been  below  report 
One  hears  of  them. 


42  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

SATAN 

Put  by  your  idle  sneers. 
He  is  a  prophet  and  a  saint  whose  like 
The  world  can  offer  not.     Upon  his  face 
You  shall  behold  such  utter  holiness, 
Such  sublimate  devotion  as  shall  shake 
Your  hearts'  foundations. 

FAUST 

Well,  I  can  endure 
The  meeting  if  he  can. 

OLDHAM 

Satan,  you  choose 

Sometimes  strange  company.     You  often  speak 
Of  friendship  with  such  men  of  holiness 
As  much  surprises  me. 

SATAN 

If  you  were  but 

A  little  wiser,  you  would  understand 
That  I  have  taught  them  much,  at  various  times, 
That  is  of  profit  to  them. 

FAUST 

Pray  teach  me 
A  little  something  also. 

SATAN 

No,  you  think 

You  know  too  much  already.   .  .   .  Furthermore, 
You  do  not  trust  me ;    and  I  will  not  teach 
One  who  keeps  restlessly,  the  whole  day  long, 
His  eyes  upon  me,  as  though  fearful  I 
Were  waiting  to  spring  on  him  unawares! 

FAUST 

Oh,  you  exaggerate. 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  43 

OLDHAM 

Look  through  yonder  palms ! 
Someone  is  coming. 
SATAN 

He  sees  us  !    It  is  he ! 

[Through  the  colonnade  along  the  -far  side  of  the 
courtyard,  there  enters  the  Holy  One,  an  aged  man 
of  venerable  and  sublime  appearance,  clad  in  a  simple 
white  robe.  In  his  hand  is  a  large  copper  bowl,  which 
he  carries  with  some  care. 

SATAN 

He  brings  a  bowl  of  water  from  the  spring  — 
The  very  bowl  I  gave  him! 

OLDHAM 

What  a  face! 

What  light,  what  soundless  calm! 
FAUST 

He  is,  indeed, 

One  of  the  ancient  prophets.  .  .  . 
SATAN 

Holy  One ! 
Satan  salutes  you! 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Satan  —  come  again 
After  so  long?    A  little  longer  —  then 
No  carcass  of  illusion  here  shall  wait 
To  greet  you. 
SATAN 

In  the  greatness  of  the  sea 
All  waves  find  home.  .  .  . 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Yea,  verily ;  and  the  deep 
Lies  not  far  off.    I  am  drawn  nearer  it 


44  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

Since  last  you  came:   I  see  its  floods  more  clear, 
It  laves  me  daily.   .   .  .  But  what  brings  you  back 
To  my  deserted  dwelling  from  the  press 
Where  you  are  ever  going  to  and  fro 
Upon  the  earth? 
SATAN 

I  came  to  seek  for  you, 
Whose  feet  are  on  the  path  of  blessedness. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Ah,  has  illusion  rent  itself  in  twain 
For  your  sight  also? 
SATAN 

Ask  me  not.     I  come 
Not  on  my  mission,  but  on  theirs.  .  .  . 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

On  theirs! 

And  who  are  your  companions? 
SATAN 

Friends,  who  seek 
What  you  have  found. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

They  have  not  in  their  eyes 
Wholly  the  look  of  Seekers.     Passion  lurks 
Along  their  ruddy  lips.   .  .  .  And  yet,  who  knows? 
FAUST 

I  offer  you  our  greetings,  reverend  sir. 

A  long  way  have  we  come  to  meet  with  you, 

By  Satan  led. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

And  what  would  you  with  me? 

FAUST 

Paradise !     Paradise ! 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  45 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Too  hotly  spoken! 

Go,  get  you  to  the  dancers  of  Tanjore.  .  .  . 
Paradise ! 

OLDHAM 

You  belie  us,  Faust.     Let  me 
Have  speech  with  him. 

Most  Holy  One,  we  come. 
From  lands  far  off,  beyond  remotest  seas 
Of  sunset.     There,  in  midst  of  toil  and  stress 
And  clamor,  have  we  dwelt,  till  weariness 
Of  all  life's  gifts  impelled  us  to  go  forth 
To  seek  if  anywhere  a  region  lay 
Where  happiness  still  dwelt.     To  you  we  turn 
As  unto  one  upon  whose  face  is  set 
The  seal  of  peace  such  as  we  dreamed  not  of. 
SATAN 

They  seek  the  Way,  the  Way,  most  Holy  One. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

The  Blessed  Eightfold  Way  lies  free  to  all. 

I  cannot  ope  it  to  them.     Peace,  joy,  bliss, 

Supernal  glory  is  it  to  those  souls 

Who  have  put  by  the  follies  of  their  birth 

And  sought  its  refuge.     But  though  now  I  stand 

With  lighted  heart  upon  its  blissful  path, 

I  can  stretch  out  no  hand  to  grasp  their  hands 

And  draw  them  toward  it. 

SATAN 

Yet  the  Blessed  One, 
In  Gaya  first  enlightened,  far  and  wide 
Taught  men  the  Way.  .   .  . 


46  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Aye,  verily.  .  .  .  Some  mood 
Of  evil  in  my  heart  has  closed  my  mouth 
And  darkened  thus  my  eyesight.    But  't  is  gone.  .  .   . 
Brethren,  have  comfort  on  my  frugal  stones. 
Ask  me  all  ye  desire. 

SATAN 

Most  Holy  One, 

These  are  my  friends ;   I  bring  them  in  sore  need 
Unto  your  wisdom.    For  methinks  they  stand 
Now  at  the  cross-roads  where  the  choice  is  made 
Of  truth  or  vanity.     I  beg  you,  tell 
Unto  their  ears  how,  in  your  day,  you  came 
To  that  dark  crossing. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

I  would  do  your  will 
In  this,  and  in  all  other  services, 
My  brethren. 

You  must  know  that  in  my  youth 
I  was  a  lusty  noble  of  the  realm 
Of  Jeypore;    and  the  falcon  and  the  sword 
And  the  nautch-dancers  and  the  palace-girls 
Were  mine  to  love  and  master  like  a  lord. 
Lordlike  I  lived;    the  caskets  of  the  day 
And  of  the  night  I  crowded  with  bright  jewels 
Of  love  and  joy  and  laughter.     No  desire 
Panted  unslaked  an  instant  at  my  doors  — 
Nay,  feasts  were  spread  for  it.     And  poor  men  gazed 
On  me  with  envy,  muttering  from  their  dust: 
"  Behold,  the  Heavens'  darling."  .  .  . 

OLDHAM  ^..T          ,         , 

Other  lands 
Know  the  same  tale. 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  47 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Aye,  aye,  all  lands.    And  then 
One  night,  alone  in  mine  own  garden  walls, 
Beneath  the  piercing  stars,  I  gathered  my  life 
Into  my  hands,  and  looked  at  it,  and  far 
Beyond  it  at  all  other  mortal  lives ; 
And  dust  fell  from  mine  eyelids.  .  .  . 

For  I  saw 

Birth  and  desire,  satiety  and  pain, 
Recurrent  yearning  that  is  never  stilled, 
Agony,  death,  rebirth  in  other  forms, 
And  agony,  and  desire,  and  agony. 
But  nowhere  saw  I  happiness  or  peace 
Or  rest  from  cravings  that  like  vultures  tear 
The  fibres  of  the  heart. 

Then  wandered  I 

Forth  from  my  palaces  in  utter  pain, 
Seeing  the  world  as  dust  and  vanity, 
A  desert  of  despair,  a  raging  sea 
Of  torment.  .  .  . 

SATAN 

Now  why  stops  the  Holy  One? 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

It  wearies  me  to  speak,  and  to  recall 

Those  perished  years.  .  .  .  Give  me  to  drink. 

OLDHAM 

He  speaks 

Out  of  familiar  deeps.     Seas  sunder  us, 
But  the  same  stars  have  cast  their  ghostly  rays 
Into  our  bosoms. 


48 MR.    FAUST [ACT  n 

FAUST 

And  those  cloudless  eyes 
Have  seen  what  we  have  seen! 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

I  am  refreshed.  .  .  . 

Thus  long  ago,  in  my  most  desolate  hour, 
I  was  refreshed  by  draughts  from  the  deep  springs 
Of  light.     Beneath  a  pipal  tree  I  sat 
In  lost  despair;    and  thither  to  me  came 
A  pilgrim;    and  he  glanced  into  mine  eyes 
With  sight  that  read  the  sickness  of  my  soul, 
And  sat  beside  me,  and  in  measured  words 
Like  far-off  song  told  me  this  parable: 

The  Buddha  came  to  where  the  sea 
Curled  silver-white  upon  the  land, 
And  murmurs  of  infinity 
Breathed  on  the  sand. 

And  there  lay  shells  like  rosy  foam 
Borne  from  the  caverns  of  the  deep, 
Frail  playthings  drifted  from  the  home 
Of  timeless,  tideless  sleep. 

And  on  the  sand  a  Fisher  stood, 
Drying  his  nets  that  late  had  seen 
The  silent  caverns  of  the  flood 
And  all  the  wastes  between. 

The  Fisher  lingered  in  his  place 
With  countenance  of  mild  surprise, 
And  looked  upon  the  Buddha's  face 
With  dumb,  uncomprehending  eyes. 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  49 

And  Buddha  spake :  "  Thy  nets  are  drawn, 
Thy  boat  rocks  idle  on  the  sea, 
Thy  day  turns  westward,  and  is  gone.  .  .  . 
Come  thou  with  me." 

The  Fisher  marvelled :  "  I  must  toil 
With  nets  and  shells  among  the  caves, 
To  win  the  sea's  unwilling  spoil 
From  the  harsh  waves." 

And  Buddha  answered :  "  Cast  no  more 
Thy  nets  upon  the  troubled  sea, 
Nor  gather  shells  along  the  shore. 
Come  thou  with  me. 

"  Thou  drawest  shells  and  curious  flowers 
From  out  the  blue  untrodden  caves. 
Thou  seest  the  passing  of  the  hours. 
Thou  hearest  the  clamor  of  the  waves. 

"  Thou  openest  the  shell  where  lieu 
The  pearl  more  white  than  driven  spray  — 
And  trackless  past  thy  vision  flies 
Each  passing  day. 

"  But  I  will  teach  thee  not  to  stir 
The  shell  nor  flower  in  its  sleep. 
For  thou  shalt  roam  the  sepulchre 
That  chasms  all  their  native  deep. 

"  And  vain  desire,  like  terror  grown 
Deep  in  the  chambers  of  thy  breast, 
Shall  be  from  thee  forever  flown, 
And  thou  shalt  rest. 


50  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

"  No  search  for  pearls  shall  blind  thy  thought, 
Nor  waves,  with  clamorous  harmonies. 
But  in  the  silence  where  is  naught 
Thou  shalt  behold  the  One  that  is. 


"  And  where  the  days  now  speed  like  foam 
Across  thy  vision,  there  shall  be 
For  thee  a  vast  eternal  home  — 
An  Infinite  Sea." 

The  Fisher  looked  on  Buddha  dumb  — 
Looked  deep  into  that  tender  gaze  — 
Those  eyes  within  whose  depths  had  come 
And  gone  the  sorrows  of  all  days. 

He  looked  uncomprehendingly, 
And  wearily  he  shook  his  head; 
And  turned  once  more  to  drag  the  sea, 
Knowing  not  what  the  Buddha  said. 

FAUST 

The  cup  again!     The  Holy  One  is  faint. 
OLDHAM 

He  speaks  a  miracle!  .  .  . 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

And  then  I  knew 

That  pilgrim  as  a  saint,  whose  lips  revealed 
The  glory  of  the  Buddha.     I  beheld 
My  life  one  poisoned  network  of  desire 
And  fleshly  longing  and  pain-sowing  hope  — 
The  evil  self  seeking  its  happiness 
And  shaping  horror.     And  I  cast  away 
Myself,  and  cried:   What  am  I  but  a  dream, 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  51 

A  wave  within  the  sea,  a  passing  cloud 
Upon  the  radiance  of  eternity? 
All  yearning  will  I  slay,  and  slay  therewith 
The  sorrow  that  succeeds  it !  ... 

So  the  lust 

Of  life  passed  from  me ;    so  the  narrow  I 
Merged  in  the  infinite,  from  hope  set  free  — 
Heritor  of  Nirvana's  holy  calm, 
Wherein  the  voices  of  the  heart's  unrest 
Are  stifled,  and  the  soul  expands  to  clasp 
Joy,  nothingness,  eternity  and  peace. 

FAUST 

Peace.  .  .  .  Peace.   .  .  .  Like     bells     from     upland 

monasteries 

You  speak  the  word  that  summons  us.     But  where 
In  peace  is  room  for  all  once-towering  hopes  — 
Nay,  even  for  the  wrecked  and  prostrate  monoliths 
That  mark  those  fallen  pylons? 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

Let  the  earth, 

Ravenous  of  her  young,  these  too  devour, 
And  dust  and  nothingness  engulf  their  shapes  — 
Vain  burdens,  bitter  monuments. 
FAUST 

And  where 

Shall  I  find  deeps  wherein  without  a  sound 
I  can  extinguish  my  wild  will  that  leaps 
Flamelike  to  meet  the  stars? 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

In  that  deep  sea 

Hid  in  thy  breast.     Seek  thou  that  tide  of  calm, 
For  it  lies  there  awaiting. 


52  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

FAUST 

Can  it  be 

That  life's  whole  burden  may  be  cast  aside 
And  named  as  nothing,  and  its  memory 
Perish  forever?     In  the  summer  nights, 
Comes  there  no  stealing  ecstasy  to  stir 
The  old  forgotten  longings? 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

In  the  night 

And  in  the  day,  one  ecstasy  abides 
Ceaselessly  with  the  heart  that  has  put  off 
Desire  —  one  ecstasy  of  final  calm. 
All  other  voices  seem  harsh  clamorings. 

OLDHAM 

Ah,  Holy  One,  lead  me  thy  way  of  peace ! 
For  I  am  weary  of  my  heart's  vain  wars. 
My  life  is  as  a  desert,  where  desire 
Corrodes  me  ceaselessly.     Instruct  my  soul 
To  follow  thee  home  to  the  gulfs  of  rest! 
That,  in  renouncement  of  this  bitter  will, 
It  find  at  last  deliverance  it  has  sought. 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

My  son,  thou  hast  spoken;    thou  shalt  come  in  time 
To  that  abode.     The  Buddha's  light  shall  guide 
Both  thee  and  me,  poor  seekers.     Bide  with  me; 
And  what  I  know,  that  shalt  thou  freely  know,    , 
And  my  peace  shall  be  thy  peace.  .  .   . 

SATAN  ,.,  ,, 

Faust,  the  gates 

Admit  one  form  already. 
FAUST 

Ah,  the  gates 

Are  pearl  and  silver.  .  .  .  Would  that  there  were 
space 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  53 

Within  them  for  such  fevered  heart  as  mine  — 
That  with  the  restlessness  of  stormy  winds 
Beats  on  its  barriers  ! 

THE    HOLY    ONE 

There  is  room  for  all 

Whose  souls  renounce  the  world  and  life  and  hope 
To  gain  that  soundless  silence. 

OLDHAM 

Faust,  I  feel, 

Transfused  with  light  and  glory,  that  deep  peace 
Awaiting.     There  shall  perish  like  a  flame 
The  passions  which  have  seared  my  tortured  soul 
All  my  life  long.     They  die ;   and  nothingness 
Like  a  cool  flood  sweeps  over  me.     Ah,  come 
Where  never  storm  shall  smite! 
FATJST 

I  see  the  gates ; 

I  see  the  cool  breast  of  the  silvery  flood 
Of  refuge  and  oblivion.  .   .   .  Fare  you  well, 
Oldham,  and  light  go  with  you!     For  I  go, 
Alas,  not  with  you.  .  .  . 

OLDHAM 

Faust,  Faust,  turn  not  back! 
I,  who  am  casting  all  desires  in  dust, 
To  one  desire  still  cling:   I  long  that  joy 
Of  such  deliverance  fill  you  as  fills  me 
On  this  first  step  of  the  sublime  ascent. 
FAUST 

I  see  the  light  that  waits  you  on  the  peak; 
And  my  heart  follows  you.     But  my  stern  soul 
Plucks  me  yet  back  with  cold  insistency 
I  cannot  master.  ...  Go !     If  I  could  pray, 
My  prayers  should  follow  you.     My  visions  shall; 


54  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

My  love  shall  fold  you.     But  I  cannot  come 

Where  you  shall  go;    I  cannot  cast  aside 

All  that  I  surely  know  —  this  pitiful 

And  shattered  mortal  life,  with  its  strange  gleams 

And  shadows  —  and  embrace  the  icy  void 

Where  Being  trembles  on  the  final  verge. 

To  bid  life  cease  —  but  linger  as  the  moon 

Lingers  in  heaven  —  ah,  that  is  horrible 

Beyond  life's  proper  horrors !  .  .  .  Were  my  pain 

A  single  atom  greater  —  were  my  soul 

A  single  breath  more  weary  —  I  would  come. 

But  now  I  must  confront  the  winds  of  heaven 

Still  master  of  my  destinies.  .  .  .  To  the  last, 

Not  in  such  tomb-world  can  my  spirit  rest. 

No  golden  clouds  that  throng  Nirvana's  gates 

Shall  tempt  me  there  to  enter  and  resign 

My  right  to  strain  beyond  all  gates  that  be.  ... 

But  you  I  cannot  counsel.  .  .  . 

OLDHAM 

Me  the  peace 

Already  laps  with  wavelets  of  the  flood. 
FAUST 

The  flood  is  sundering  us. 

OLDHAM 

Farewell,  farewell, 

Beloved  friend.     I  with  the  Holy  One 
Henceforth  am  linked;    and  grief  shall  follow  me 
In  what  should  be  your  footsteps. 

FAUST 

Have  no  grief. 

In  the  vast  deeps  of  life's  salt  bitter  sea 
Perhaps  awaits  my  anodyne,  to  heal 
Life's  wounds.   .  .   . 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  55 

OLDHAM 

Farewell!     I  go  to  paradise. 

[Oldham  and  the  Holy  One  move  slowly  away  to- 
gether,  pass  through  the  colonnades,  and  disappear 
into  the  forest.  Faust  -follows  with  his  eyes  their 
retreating  figures. 

SATAN 

You  do  not  know  a  paradise  when  you  see  it! 
Some  day,  when  I  have  time,  I  '11  start  a  school 
To  give  instruction  to  great  minds  like  you  — 
Debutant ! 

FAUST 

Ah,  I  had  forgotten  you.   .  .  . 
Two  men  are  worth  a  thousand  devils  still. 

SATAN 

I  overrated  you.     Now  get  you  gone 
Before  I  call  the  savagery  that  sleeps 
Here  in  the  jungle  to  annihilate  you 
For  your  unparalleled  stupidity. 
FAUST 

Stupidity  or  no,  I  have  one  word 

Still  to  say  to  you,  my  malicious  friend: 

To  heel! 

SATAN 

What! 

FAUST 

Aye,  to  heel,  I  say !    Crouch  down 
And  follow  me,  my  hound  and  servitor 
From  this  hour  forth! 
SATAN 

You  have  grown  very  witty. 
Your  wit,  however,  does  not  please  me. 


56  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

FAUST 

Please  you! 

There  are  few  things  that  I  desire  less. 
To  heel! 

SATAN 

What  fiends  possess  you?     Ah,  I  see! 
You  are  still  thinking  of  that  wager  made, 
That  jest  of  ours. 
FAUST 

I  am  still  thinking  of  it. 

SATAN 

You  do  not  mean  that  now  you  wish  to  claim 
That  forfeit  seriously? 
FAUST 

I  mean  quite  that. 

SATAN 

What  an  amazing  man  you  really  are ! 
For  your  own  sake,  I  tried  to  offer  you 
A  splendid  paradise;    I  brought  you  here 
At  infinite  cost  and  trouble;    you  have  had 
An  hour  of  insight  and  experience 
New  and  instructive  to  you;    your  best  friend 
Has  found  eternal  bliss:    and  now  you  turn, 
And  just  because  your  uttermost  crazy  whim 
Is  not  quite  satisfied  with  what  he  grasped 
Thankfully,  you  revert,  with  sorry  taste, 
To  my  old  careless  generous  remarks. 
I  do  not  think  your  friends  at  home  would  call  it 
A  sporting  attitude. 
FAUST 

The  jungle  shakes  — 

Do  you  not  hear  it? —  with  the  stifled,  choked 
Laughter  of  leopards,  elephants,  hyenas, 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  57 

Rhinoceroses,  apes,  pythons,  and  tigers, 

Who  hear  you  and  are  overcome  with  mirth.  .  .  . 

I  also  laugh  with  them. 

SATAN 

Magnanimous 

Your  laughter  sounds !    True,  you  have  beaten  me, 
And  I  am  at  your  mercy.     By  some  whim, 
Trick,  technicality,  your  mind  rejects 
A  noble  paradise ;   and  to  my  pledge 
You  therefore  are  entitled.     And  I  stand 
Ready  to  pay  it. 

FAUST 

Ah,  at  last  we  have 

Acknowledgment  of  it !    Frankness  is  good 
Even  for  the  Devil,  Satan. 

SATAN 

I  have  been 

Frank  with  you  always.     And,  if  to  your  taste, 
I  will  be  franker  still.     Your  stake  is  won; 
You  have  your  triumph:    but  does  it  quite  fill 
The  chambers  of  your  heart?     Will  it  suffice 
In  place  of  that  bright  paradise  you  dreamed 
Might  be  your  gain  as  loser?     Ah,  my  friend, 
In  copper  you  have  won,  but  lost  in  gold ! 
And  victory  will  not  requite  for  that 
Your  empty  treasury. 

FAUST 

Not  empty  quite; 
You  are  too  modest. 

SATAN 

Oh,  if  you  choose,  my  pledge 
Shall  be  fulfilled,  and  I  will  be  your  dog  — 
Snarling  a  little,  sometimes  —  snapping  at 


58  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

Your  friends  and  furniture  and  lady-loves  — 
But  yet  your  dog.     However,  I  can  do 
Better  for  you  than  that.  .  .  . 

FAUST 

Enough !    Enough ! 

SATAN 

But  hear  me !    You  '11  admit,  a  feather's  weight, 
A  hair's  breadth  only  held  you  from  the  gates 
That  Oldham  entered.     Almost  they  sufficed 
Your  spirit ;    yes,  a  moth's  wing  could  have  blown 
You  toward  them !     'T  was  so  nearly  I  fulfilled 
All  that  I  promised.     Therefore  when  I  speak, 
You  will,  for  justice's  sake,  concede  I  am 
No  absolute  bungler,  no  coarse-palated 
Plebeian,  as  to  paradises. 

FAUST 

No. 
I  will  admit  that. 

SATAN 

Good !    Now,  I  would  make 
One  final  offer  to  you. 

Faust,  I  know 

In  other  regions,  beneath  other  skies, 
One  haven  more,  the  only  one  of  earth 
That  can  be  judged  in  glory  to  surpass 
This  paradise  you  entered  not.     My  faith 
Is  absolute  that  it  is  to  your  need 
Utterly  moulded.     Like  your  heart  itself, 
Its  halls  are  structured,  destinate  for  you 
As  perfect  refuge.     And  I  say  to  you: 
Give  me  the  leave,  and  I  will  lead  you  there 
For  one  supreme  and  ultimate  trial  of  choice 


ACT  n]  MR.    FAUST  59 

That  has  no  doubtful  outcome.     And  my  pledge 
Shall  still  be  valid!     If  this  refuge  gives 
Not  all  that  you  desire,  you  still  may  claim 
My  service  as  your  slave.     Thus  do  you  risk 
No  atom,  but  have  gain  of  one  last  chance 
To  win  the  paradise  you  hunger  for! 

FAUST 

A  pleasing  logic;    but  I  do  not  trust 
The  mind  behind  it. 

SATAN 

Trust  it,  or  distrust  — 
What  matter?  —  when  the  issue  is  so  plain! 

FAUST 

Away !    Away ! 

SATAN 

Well,  if  this  hope  is  vain 
To  urge  you,  let  despair  serve  in  its  stead 
As  roweled  spur.     For  see  where  now  you  stand: 
The  mock  of  destiny  —  the  man  who  lost 
All  joys  of  the  bright  many  that  the  world 
Cherishes !     Aye,  and  even  lost  his  friend, 
His  one  deep  lasting  friend  —  and  stood  thereafter 
Fixed  like  a  donkey.   .  .  .  Though  I  led  you  on 
From  paradise  to  paradise,  and  none 
Sufficed  you  —  that  were  surely  better  sport  — 
Testing  and  trying  with  sublime  contempt  — 
Than  finger-twirling!     But  not  thus  I  lead. 
For  now  you  shall,  you  shall  have  paradise! 
FAUST 

Deep  in  my  soul,  there  is  a  sense  that  loathes 
Pacts  with  the  Devil.     Yet  the  sanctioned  powers 
Established  in  the  world  have  proved  them  void 
And  ignorant  of  paradise.  .  .  .  Where  lies  it? 


60  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  n 

SATAN 

Follow,  and  I  will  lead. 
FAUST 

A  long  path? 

SATAN 

Yes. 

FAUST 

On !     But  your  bondage  waits  you  at  the  end. 
SATAN 

Ah,  jester,  jester!  .  .  .  Come  —  give  me  your  hand! 

CURTAIN 


THE    THIRD    ACT 

The  scene  is  the  nave  of  a  great  cathedral.  Two 
rows  of  many-shafted  columns  stretch  back  to  where, 
in  the  far  background,  rises  the  elaborate  magnificence 
of  the  High  Altar. 

The  nave  is  empty,  except  for  an  occasional  figure 
moving  at  the  far  end  of  the  long  central  aisle,  and  an 
occasional  attendant  in  sacerdotal  robes  making  ready 
the  Altar. 

Faust,  entering  from  the  right,  and  Satan,  entering 
from  the  left,  meet  in  the  foreground.  Satan  is  dressed 
in  the  dark  robes  of  a  priest. 

FAUST 

I  care  not  for  your  masquerade  attire; 

But  let  that  pass.  .   .  .  Well,  I  have  kept  your  hour. 

And  this  perhaps  is  not  unfitting  place 

To  make  confession  that  you  weary  me 

A  little.     In  this  running  to  and  fro 

Over  the  earth,  my  inclination  tires 

Of  your  companionship.     I  am  resolved, 

If  three  days'  time  brings  forth  no  new  event, 

To  end  this,  and  reclaim  you  to  obey 

My  will. 

SATAN 

I  am  content;    three  days  will  serve. 

FAUST 

Good !     Meanwhile,  't  is  at  least  some  recompense 
That  we  return  from  airy  Eastern  domes 


62  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

Glittering  in  blank  sunlight,  unto  lands 

Where  men  erect  their  temples  to  the  gods 

In  forms  whose  light  and  shadow,  stress  and  play 

Of  arch  and  buttress,  satisfies  my  blood 

Better  than  does  barbaric  loveliness. 

The  dome  that  poises  its  clear  perfect  curves 

Rising  above  the  palm-trees,  with  the  look 

As  of  a  winged  bubble  lightly  resting 

On  needless  masonry  —  that  symbolled  form 

Of  heavenly  perfection  never  fills 

My  heart  as  do  these  knotted  buttresses 

And  writhing  ribs  and  vaults  that  strain  in  fight  — 

And  are  victorious,  as  they  raise  to  heaven 

The  climbing  spires  of  such  an  edifice. 

SATAN 

Quite  right  —  but  if  you  '11  let  me  interrupt  — 
There  is  a  woman  yonder  who,  I  think, 
Is  waiting  for  a  chance  to  speak  to  you. 
She  looks  at  you,  and  hesitates,  and  turns  — 
As  though  a  little  fearful  to  approach 
So  great  a  person. 

FAUST 

Where  is  she?     I  see. 
I  wonder  if  I  know  her. 

SATAN 

She  is  coming. 

[A  young  woman,  hardly  more  than  a  girl,  comes 
from  between  the  pillars  and  approaches  Faust. 
Satan  withdraws  a  little  as  she  approaches. 

THE    WOMAN 

I  did  not  want  to  interrupt  your  talk; 
But,  Mr.  Faust,  I  wished  so  much  to  speak 
To  you.     You  do  not  know  me? 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  63 

FAUST 

Why,  it   seems  .  .  . 

THE    WOMAN 

Of  course  you  do  not;   why  should  you  remember? 
But  I  have  seen  your  face  so  many  times 
When  you  perhaps  not  noticed  me  at  all, 
That  I  feel  half-acquainted.     Mr.  Brander 
Speaks  of  you,  too,  so  much  that  I  have  grown 
To  think  I  know  you. 
FAUST 

Ah;    yes,  Brander.  .  .  . 

THE    WOMAN 

Still 

I  have  not  told  you  who  I  am,  and  you 
Do  not  yet  know  me.     I  am  Mrs.  Brander. 

FAUST 

What !  Mrs.  Brander !   Ah,  delighted  .  .  .  yes.  .  .  . 

THE    WOMAN 

You  had  not  heard  that  we  were  married? 
FAUST 

No. 

Of  course,  I  am  astounded ;    it 's  delightful  — 
And  most  surprising. 

THE    WOMAN 

It  was  very  sudden  — 
While  you  were  gone. 

FAUST 

I  see.     Yes,  I  'm  surprised 
And  charmed.     It 's  strange,  at  first  I  could  not 

bring 
You  to  my  memory. 


64  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

THE    WOMAN 

I  don't  believe 
That  you  can  yet! 
FAUST 

Why.  .  .  . 

THE    WOMAN 

I  don't  wonder  at  it. 
I  used  to  whisk  about  and  peer  at  you 
As  you  came  in.  ... 
FAUST 

Are  you  then  .  .  .  then  are  you  .  .  . 
Midge? 
MIDGE 

Yes !    exactly. 
FAUST 

This  is  very  charming. 
Now  I  remember  perfectly,  of  course, 
Dear  Mrs.  Brander!     I  shall  hope  to  see 
Brander  himself  to-morrow.     Give  him,  please, 
My  warmest  wishes. 
MIDGE 

We  shall  hope  to  see  you 
In  our  apartment  soon.     It 's  very  tiny 
And  in  a  quite  unfashionable  street; 
But  it  looks  out  across  a  bit  of  park 
To  westward,  as  I  've  always  hoped  it  would. 
Some  days  the  sunset  lights  are  lovely  there. 
You  must  come  look  at  them. 
FAUST 

Thank  you  —  indeed 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to ! 
MIDGE 

And  I  know  — 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST 65 

How  shall  I  say  it?  —  that  you  '11  think  me  strange, 
And  that  I  cannot  ever  be  your  friend 
As  Mr.  Brander  is.     I  know  so  little  — 
FAUST 

Dear  Mrs.  Brander! 

MIDGE 

But  I  am  so  eager 

That  you  should  give  me  just  a  little  trial  — 
I  want  so  much  to  know  you,  and  so  much 
He  should  not  lose  you.  .  .  . 
FAUST 

Why,  you  make  me  feel 
Quite  like  a  monster! 
MIDGE 

Then  you  '11  come  ? 

FAUST 

I  '11  come ! 

MIDGE 

Good-bye  —  and  don't  forget  me. 

[Midge  gives  him  her  hand,  and  moves  away  smiling. 

FAUST 

Well,  of  all 

Impossible,  grotesque,  outrageous  tricks 

That  Brander  could  have  played  upon  himself! 

Married  —  the  fool,  the  fool!  —  And  yet  she  is 

Curiously  sweet  and  fresh,  that  kitchen-maid. 
SATAN 

Are  you  quite  through? 
FAUST 

Quite,  thank  you.  ...  It  is  strange.  .  .  . 

But  I  forget;    you  are  not  interested. 

What  is  it  you  would  say  now? 


66  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

SATAN 

I  have  things 

Graver  to  speak  of  than  admiring  ladies 
Or  Gothic  architecture.     Here,  to-day, 
Unto  your  doubting  eyes  there  shall  be  made 
A  revelation  of  profounder  scope 
Than  aught  that  life  has  brought  you. 

FAUST 

The  hour  strikes 

Tardily;    I  am  wearier  than  I  was 
When  on  this  trial  we  entered. 

SATAN 

You  have  looked 

Askance  at  me  these  many  days,  perplexed 
To  reconcile  the  fountains  of  my  will 
With  my  strange  acts,  and  with  the  dark  report 
That  you  have  heard  concerning  me.     Dear  friend, 
Be  you  not  angry,  now  I  say  to  you 
In  full  confession,  that  from  day  to  day 
I  have  deceived  you:    I  have  hid  my  face 
Even  from  my  friend:    I  have  with  doubtful  mask 
In  alien  guises  tempted  you,  to  try 
Your  metal.     But  the  hour  of  trial  is  past; 
The  event  is  sure;    and  now  I  ope  my  heart 
And  show  to  you  what  few  of  living  men 
Have  guessed — -my  final  secret. 

FAUST 

Play  no  tricks. 

Before  me,  Satan;    try  no  mumming  game. 
If  you  speak  truth,  let  riddles  cloak  it  not. 

SATAN 

Listen,  and  be  truth's  judge.     I  am  not  such 
As  men  esteem  me;    and  my  spirit's  springs 


ACT  in]  MR.    FAUST  67 

Rise  not  from  buried  and  infernal  realms, 
But  like  your  own,  out  of  the  fount  of  God 
They  have  their  being.     I,  though  lowliest  far, 
Yet  am  a  servant  of  the  House  of  God  — 
Deputed  to  mine  office  by  His  hand, 
And  on  His  mission. 
FAUST 

You  are  trifling  with  me. 

SATAN 

I  speak  the  gospel  of  the  living  God. 
FAUST 

Are  you  not  Lord  of  Evil?     God  doubtless  asks 
That  service  of  you? 

SATAN 

God  is  infinite, 

Likewise  His  wisdom.     His  omniscience  wills 
That  I  go  forth  among  the  haunts  of  men 
And  offer  evil  to  their  touch.     Thereby, 
Some  spurn  me  —  and  the  force  whereby  they  spurn 
Lifts  them  up  nearer  to  His  arms.     Some  take 
The  sin  I  offer,  fall  from  grace,  go  down  — 
And  lost  in  fathomless  gulfs  of  wickedness, 
Cry  out  with  utter  yearning  to  His  love 
That  it  may  save  them,  and  repentant  turn 
Their  prodigal  faces  toward  His  doors  again, 
Never  to  wander  more.     But  some  few  souls, 
Who  neither  spurn  temptation  nor  repent 
After  their  fall  —  these  unregenerate 
It  is  mine  office  wholly  to  destroy 
And  cleanse  the  universe  for  the  praise  of  God. 
Thus  does  all  evil  serve  His  mighty  throne, 
And  all  return  to  Him. 


68  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

FAUST 

I  have  no  power 

To  take  the  measure  of  the  words  you  speak. 
Why  tell  me  such  things? 

SATAN 

I  would  tell  you  all 
And  show  to  you  at  last  your  destiny. 
The  vanities  of  the  world,  the  woes  and  sins, 
Are  but  the  acid  by  whose  fiery  touch 
I  sort  the  gold  from  out  the  transient  brass 
And  purify  and  fine  it  that  it  be 
Worthy  God's  altar.     My  beloved  friend, 
Such  was  your  trial ;   thus  have  I  tempted  you 
With  things  averse  to  God,  with  forms  and  faiths 
Outcast  and  separate  from  Him.     You  have  seen 
The  whole  world's  vanities ;  you  have  come  to  know 
That  in  this  world's  illusion  is  no  power 
Whose  love  is  refuge:    even  the  living  death 
Of  cold  Nirvana  frights  you.     Thus  at  last, 
Knowing  that  you  are  powerless,  and  the  world 
Bare  of  salvation  for  your  feebleness, 
You  stand  on  this  great  threshold;    and  your  eyes 
That  see  despair  and  loneliness  shall  raise 
Their   sight   to  heaven;    and  peace  shall   fold  you 

round ; 
And  God,  who  is  our  Father,  shall  be  yours. 

FAUST 

This  is  not  truth!     My  fevered  eyes  are  weak 
To  look  into  this  glowing  maze  of  fire 
With  vision.     All  the  ramparts  of  the  world 
Reel  round  me.     I  have  scoffed  God  all  my  days, 
Believing  pain  —  your  province  of  the  world  — 
Proof  of  His  non-existence.     And  you  come 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  69 

Crying  His  glory,  testifying  His  faith, 
Exhorting  me  to  seek  Him.  ...  I  am  lost 
Where  naught  is  known  to  me. 
SATAN 

He  is  your  hope, 

Your  sole  salvation  in  a  universe 
Where  never  other  form  shall  comfort  you  — 
A  waif  except  for  Him.     So  have  all  souls  — 
The  holy  and  the  pure  —  from  age  to  age , 
Learned,  homesick  for  His  home.     Their  frustrate 

hopes, 

Their  burdens  heavier  than  by  mortal  strength 
Can  be  sustained,  their  impotence,  bow  down 
Each  spirit :    and  it  cries :  "  O  God,  support 
My  helplessness;    unto  Thy  perfect  will 
Do  I  resign  my  vain  and  evil  hopes, 
My  burdens;    and  Thy  Will  Be  Done  Forever." 
Thus,  with  arms  folded  on  despairing  breast, 
With  head  bowed  to  the  inscrutable  decree, 
They  seek  Him:   and  a  sudden  glory  fills 
The  humbled  bosom;    all  His  stars  and  thrones 
Shine  down  upon  it;    all  His  majesty 
Enters  that  lowly  door,  lifts  up,  sustains 
The  sundered  soul;    and  His  beneficence 
With  more  than  father-love  enfolds  the  heart 
Joined  to  His  own  forever.     From  His  light 
Reflected  radiance  pours;    to  the  dark  sight 
Comes  glimpse  of  the  high  justice  of  God's  will; 
And  all  roads  lead  to  Heaven,  and  all  hearts  lie 
Within  His  love,  and  all 's  well  with  the  world. 
[Deep  organ  music  begins  to  roll  through  the  arches 
of  the  cathedral.     Candles  are  lighted  one  by  one 
en  the  High  Altar.     Worshippers  begin  to  enter  the 


70  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

nave:  they  pass  down  the  long  central  aisle  and 
gather  in  groups  at  the  far  end,  near  the  Altar. 
Faust  stands  leaning  against  a  pillar,  silent  and  lost 
in  meditation. 

Brander  enters  among  the  worshippers.  He  passes 
the  spot  where  Faust  is  standing,  glances  at  him  and 
stops,  astonished. 

BRANDER 

You  have  come  back !    I  had  not  heard  of  it. 
Where  have  you  been  these  many  months?     I  long 
To  talk  with  you. 
FAUST 

Yes,  come  and  see  me  soon. 
It 's  a  long  story.   ...     I  congratulate  you 
Upon  your  marriage.  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

Then  you  know.  .  .  . 

FAUST 

She  came 
And  spoke  to  me  a  little  while  ago. 

BRANDER 

It  must  seem  strange  to  you  beyond  my  power 
Ever  to  quite  unravel.     But  for  me 
All  things  are  clear;    and  to  my  blinded  sight 
Morning  has  come  —  in  this  thing,  as  in  all 
The  doubts  that  once  enslaved  me. 
FAUST 

Do  you  mean  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

Come  here  aside  before  the  service  starts. 
I  owe  it  you  to  tell  you.     I  have  changed 
In  your  long  absence.  .  .  . 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  71 

FAUST 

These  are  curious  words. 
I  do  not  understand. 

BRANDER 

To  understand, 

You  must  hear  all.     You  know  my  life  —  how  vain 
Its  occupations,  how  absorbed  I  moved 
In  this  day's  folly  and  to-morrow's  lure  — 
How  petty  trifles  made  my  whole  small  round 
Of  being  —  selfish  trifles,  nothing  worth, 
Stained  with  a  cruelty  that  I  would  forget. 
That  night  we  talked  together  —  you  and  I 
And  Oldham  —  in  your  rooms,  I  wandered  home 
Sorely  distressed.     For  you  had  stirred  in  me 
A  gnawing  doubt  whether  the  whole  of  life 
Was  not  mere  child's  play. 
FAUST 

I  am  sorry  if  — 

BRANDER 

It  was  the  kindest  act  man  ever  did 
In  all  my  life !    I  peered  into  my  heart : 
I  saw  myself  Judas  to  innocence, 
Betraying  lightly  with  a  careless  kiss 
A  mortal  body  and  immortal  soul; 
I  saw  no  thing  in  all  my  days  to  claim 
A  sane  man's  approbation;    one  by  one 
Each  glittering  bauble  that  I  late  had  loved 
Crumbled  to  dust  beneath  the  parching  fire 
Of  reason.  .  .  .  And  that  night,  I  walked  in  Hell. 
FAUST 

Poor  Brander!     And  my  mocking  did  all  this? 

BRANDER 

Thank  God  for  it !     That  night  I  saw  my  j  oys 


72  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

Like  some  rank  thicket  of  bright  vanities 
Masking  a  precipice.     A  sense  of  sin 
And  loathing  overcame  me,  and  the  power 
Of  utter  terror  filled  me.     I  beheld 
The  evil  riot  of  gross  earthy  things 
That  had  o'ergrown  me.     Like  a  burden  lay 
That  sense  upon  me,  and  it  pressed  me  down 
To  a  despondence  deep  beyond  all  words, 
Beyond  all  thought.     And  no  escape  I  saw 
Except  the  bullet.   .  .  . 
FAUST 

What  a  faith  we  pin 
Upon  that  bullet ! 

BRANDER 

Thus  the  doubtful  days 

Passed  like  a  nightmare.     Till,  one  Sabbath  morn, 
As  restlessly  I  paced,  some  random  mood 
Led  me  to  enter  this  cathedral's  doors 
At  hour  of  service.     As  I  knelt,  with  lips 
Unknown  to  prayer,  the  mighty  music  rolled 
Over  my  heart  like  an  all-purging  flood, 
And  a  voice  chanted :  "  He  that  loveth  life 
Shall  lose  it;   he  that  hateth  this  world's  life 
Shall  keep  the  life  eternal."     And  a  voice 
Shortly  thereafter  sang,  in  angel  tones: 
"  Come,  let  our  feet  return  unto  the  Lord ; 
For  He  hath  torn,  and  He  will  heal  us."     And 
My  soul  cried :  "  Yield  thy  burdens  to  the  Lord, 
Upon  His  love  cast  thine  unworthy  self, 
And  bid  His  Will  Be  Done." 

And  then  my  soul 
Melted  as  in  the  warmth  of  His  embrace. 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  73 

My  guilt  was  gone  like  night  before  the  sun: 
Light  blinded  me;    an  infinite  love  and  joy 
Lifted  me  up,  a  child  again,  from  earth 
Into  such  regions  as  my  mortal  speech 
Can  never  utter.     And  from  that  hour  forth, 
God  has  been  with  me.  .  .   .  Now  you  know  my  tale. 
FAUST 

You  teach  me  more  of  marvels  than  I  guessed 
Was  yet  unlearned  by  me. 

BRANDER 

No  words  can  teach 

These  marvels  to  a  heart  that  has  not  known 
God's  glories. 
FAUST 

Then  this  mystery  of  the  heart 
Is  what  men  mean  when  of  the  faith  of  God 
They    speak?      I    thought    'twas    dogma,    service, 

prayer ; 
But  this  is  life,  is  vision. 

BRANDER 

Aye,  and  more! 

Now  do  I  walk  in  meadows  of  calm  light ; 

The  love  of  God  is  over  me ;    I  faint 

Almost  beneath  its  sweetness  and  wild  joy. 

My  whole  heart's  toil  is  how  to  merit  it 

Even  a  little. 
SATAN  (raising  his  hand  to  bless) 

By  the  grace  of  God 

You  shall  be  worthy  servant,  O  my  son. 
FAUST 

This,  then,  is  what  God's  vision-seers  behold  — 

This  revelation  veiled  unto  mine  eyes  — 


74  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

This  love  unfelt  by  me  —  this  light  of  dawn 

Beyond  our  darkened  night.  ...     I  was  too  far 

Estranged  from  Him,  of  too  unworthy  will, 

Bowed  by  too  sore  a  burden.   .   .   . 

[The  music  of  the  organ  rolls  forth  once  more;   and, 

at  the  far  end  of  the  nave,  the  choir  takes  up  the 

music. 

VOICES  SINGING 

From  the  waters  of  Zion, 
From  the  fountains  of  peace, 
Pour  the  floods  on  whose  bosom 
Thy  seeking  shall  cease. 

There  the  winds  of  His  garments 
Shall  lull  thee  to  rest. 
There  the  night  of  His  watching 
Shall  enter  thy  breast. 

Thou  shalt  sleep,  and  awaken; 
On  His  morrow,  to  be 
As  a  star  in  His  heavens, 
A  wave  in  His  sea. 

FAUST 

With  old,  profound,  unutterable  grief 
My  spirit  speaks  in  me:    as,  many  a  time 
In  childhood,  at  the  hour  of  evening  dusk, 
When  all  the  room  was  still  and  shadowy, 
I,  at  my  mother's  knee,  wept  out  my  heart 
And  knew  not  why  I  wept.     And  I  am  drawn 
Out  of  myself  upon  the  music's  tide, 
With  nameless  sorrowing,  with  childlike  pain  — 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  75 

As  though  in  careless  play-hours  of  the  day 
I  had  done  hurt  to  someone  that  I  loved. 
Ah,  I  am  homesick ;    and  in  all  the  world 
There  is  no  knee  at  which  I  can  weep  out 
My  loneliness.     There  is  no  breast  of  peace 
And  silence  and  forgiveness  for  this  child 
In  any  dusk-strewn  chamber.  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

There  is  God! 

FAUST 

O  God,  can  Thine  arms  fold  me?    Can  my  weight 

Of  loneliness  and  failure  and  despair 

With  the  day's  fruitage,  find  a  child's  release 

In  Thy  great  tenderness?     I  am  a  child; 

And  life's  vast  terrors  gather  round  my  soul; 

And  I  am  frightened.     I  am  weary,  Lord! 

It  darkens ;    and  the  storms  creep  on  with  night ; 

The  shadows  come;    the  wanderer  would  turn  home. 

[Faust  falls  to  his  knees;    he  bows  his  head.     Again 

the  organ  throbs,  the  choir  sings. 


VOICES  SINGING 

To  His  peace  shalt  thou  yield  thee ; 
In  His  love  shalt  thou  sleep ; 
All  the  rills  of  thy  valleys 
Shall  merge  in  His  deep. 

To  His  hands  shalt  thou  offer 
All  hope  thou  hast  known. 
His  hope  and  His  glory 
Shall  compass  thine  own. 


76  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

And  the  vain  stars  of  longing 
Shall  fade  in  His  sun; 
And  the  vain  hand  shall  stay; 
And  His  Will  Shall  Be  Done. 


SATAN 

Let  us  beside  our  brother  kneel  in  prayer 

Beseeching  mercy. 

[Satan  and  Brander  kneel  beside  Faust. 

BRANDER 

Brother  in  the  Lord, 
Let  us  together  from  devoted  hearts 
Repeat:  "  Thy  Will  Be  Done." 
[Faust   continues   to   kneel  in  silence.      The  music 
ceases. 

BRANDER 

Faust,  let  us  pray: 
"  Father,  we  do  beseech  Thee  for  Thy  light  "... 

SATAN 

Brother,  pray  thus :   "  Thy  Will  Be  Done  "... 
FAUST  (rising) 

What  will?  .  .  . 

BRANDER 

Faust ! 

FAUST 

Lost  is  my  way  among  eternal  shadows. 
Darkened  is  every  light ;    and  clouds  are  rolled 
With  blackening  curtain  over  all  the  stars 
Within  my  heaven.     But  I  stand  upright 
Now  to  the  end,  no  traitor  to  that  dawn 
I  cannot  image. 
SATAN 

What  do  you  mean? 


ACT  m]  MR.    FAUST  77 

FAUST 

Begone, 
Judas!  .  .  . 

Ah,  Brander,  would  that  I  could  yield 
Myself  to  Him  who  has  received  your  burdens ! 
But  to  me  seems  it  as  another  sleep, 
Like  that  Nirvana  which  I  put  aside 
In  other  gardens  of  temptation.     Sleep  — 
Sleep  that  should  have  no  waking  —  happy  sleep  — 
An  anodyne  for  which  my  spirit  yearns 
But  dare  not  take  —  a  yielding  to  some  Will, 
Whose  Will,  we  know  not,  nor  do  greatly  care 
So  long  it  be  not  our  will.  .  .   . 

Thus  may  yield 

The  weary ;   I  am  weary,  but  not  yet 
To  such  last  slumber.     Thus  may  yield  the  base; 
I  am  not  base.     Thus  may  those  spirits  yield 
Who,  poisoned  by  some  madness  in  their  blood, 
Despise  life's  being;    but  not  yet  will  I 
So  utterly  despise  it.     Though  in  gulfs 
Of  yet  unsounded  ruin  I  should  die 
At  the  end  miserably,  I  still  shall  seek 
In  life  itself  my  refuge:    not  in  God 
That  stands  apart  from  life,  on  heights  of  peace. 
All  my  desires,  my  visions,  my  dreams,  my  unrest, 
My  loathing  and  my  longing  will  I  clutch 
And  cry :  "  With  all  its  bitterness  on  my  head, 
My  Will  be  done,  not  Thy  Will! " 

BRANDER 

Blasphemy ! 
Ah,  Faust,  what  madness!  .  .  . 


78  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  m 

T*  A  Tisnn 

With  calm  sight,  I  speak 

No  blasphemy,  but  truth.     Shall  I  buy  peace 
So  easily?     Toss  my  burdens  to  God's  Will  — 
Into  the  fathomless  void  of  that  unknown? 
Such  were  the  last,  the  great  apostacy.   .   .  . 
I  go  into  a  darkness  past  your  thought  — 
Into  an  emptiness  you  know  not  of  — 
A  night  profounder  that  it  late  has  held 
Marsh-lights  of  promise.     My  last  altar  lies 
Smoking  in  ruins ;    and  I  stand  alone 
Of  all  the  universe.     But  my  Will  be  done! 
My  errant  tortured  Will,  my  bitter  Will, 
My  Will,  my  Will! 

BRANDER 

Flee,  ere  the  awful  wrath 

Of  God  smite  down  these  walls,  these  poisoned  stones, 
That  hear  your  words!     Flee,  ere  the  heavens  rain 

forth 
Lightnings  to  blast  us  for  these  horrors! 

FAUST  XT      , 

Nay! 

In  this  dim  hour  of  desolation's  reign 

Upon  my  soul,  I  summon  to  my  soul 

All  powers  that  good  or  evil  may  consign 

To  the  most  lonely  man  in  all  the  world; 

I  lift  my  voice,  burdened  with  all  the  weight 

Of  loathing  and  of  longing,  and  I  cry: 

My  curse  upon  Thee,  lure  of  dying  hearts ! 

May  lightnings  smite  Thy  altars  back  to  earth! 

BRANDER 

Father,  forgive !    He  knows  not  what  he  does.  .  .  . 

CURTAIN 


THE    FOURTH    ACT 

The  sctne  is  a  public  lecture-hall.  To  the  left  rises 
a  platform,  on  which  stands  a  reading-desk.  To  the 
right  are  rows  of  chairs  arranged  as  for  an  audience. 
In  the  -front  row  of  these  sit  four  old  men,  patiently 
and  silently  waiting.  One  is  reading  a  newspaper. 

Suddenly  there  bursts  into  the  hall  a  rout  of  wildly 
gay  and  dancing  maskers:  Harlequin,  Columbine,  a 
Pig,  Pantaloon,  an  enormously  tall  Ghost,  Clowns,  a 
Skeleton,  Ballet-girls,  Oriental  Princesses,  Monks, 
Courtiers,  Turks  and  Jew  Pedlers.  The  first  few  at 
tempt  to  draw  back  on  seeing  the  chairs  and  the  four 
old  men;  but  they  are  pushed  on  by  those  behind. 
Once  in,  they  all  circle  about  in  a  crazy  dance,  sing 
ing  over  and  over  the  same  verse. 

THE    MASKERS 

Oh,  children,  children,  New  Year's  Day 
Is  more  than  half  a  year  away. 
And  we  might  get  most  awful  dry 
If  we  should  wait  for  the  Fourth  of  July. 
So  let  us  celebrate  now  and  here 
With  rah,  rah,  rah  and  a  bottle  of  beer ! 
[One  of   the  maskers,   who  is  dressed  as   a   clown, 
raises   his   hands,   ineffectually   trying   to   hush    the 
rest. 
CLOWN  (shouting) 

Stop !     Stop !     I  want  to  teach  another  verse 


80  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

To  you  before  we  go  back  to  the  others. 

[Loud  laughter.     The  song  continues. 
THE  SKELETON  (shouting) 

Is  n't  one  bad  enough? 
CLOWN 

A  poor  thing  —  but 

It  is  mine  own. 
THE  PIG 

So  much  the  worse  for  you! 
ONE  OF  THE  OLD  MEN   (rising) 

Gentlemen !     There  's  to  be  a  lecture  here. 
CLOWN 

Is  that  all?     Well,  I  '11  give  it  you  myself. 

A    MONK 

Not  if  we  see  you  first ! 

THE    PIG 

My  God!    Let's  run! 

SKELETON 

Back !     Or  the  others  will  drink  all  the  punch ! 
[The  mob  of  maskers  turbulently  surges  out  again, 
leaving  the  hall  quiet  and  empty  except  -for  the  four 
old  men. 

AN    OLD    MAN 

They  are  a  noisy  lot. 

SECOND    OLD    MAN 

Yes. 

THE    FIRST    OLD    MAN 

There  must  be 
Party  upstairs? 

SECOND    OLD    MAN 

Yes,  I  suppose  there  is. 

FIRST    OLD    MAN 

They  begin  early. 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  81 

THIRD    OLD   MAN 

Early?     Yes,  or  late. 

This  is  the  end  of  last  night's  party,  which 
Began  at  twelve,  and  likely  '11  last  till  noon. 
I  know,  for  I  'm  the  janitor. 

FIEST    OLD    MAN 

Well!    Well! 

[Two  men  enter,  look  around  and  take  seats  in  the 
chairs  set  for  the  audience.  One  carries  a  small  black 
surgical  case;  the  other  has  a  green  bag  under  his 
arm. 

DOCTOR 

We  seem  to  be  a  little  early  —  or 
Have  we  made  some  mistake? 

LAWYER 

No,  ten  's  the  hour. 

But  I  was  anxious  that  we  should  be  prompt, 
And  so  have  rather  overdone  our  haste. 

DOCTOR 

It  does  n't  matter ;    we  can  wait  a  bit. 
How  curiously  impatient,  though,  you  are 
To  hear  this  talk !     I  personally  have  doubts 
Whether  it 's  worth  our  trouble. 

LAWYER 

Well,  I  know 

The  man,  however  slightly;   you  do  not, 
And  so  can  hardly  share  my  expectation. 
But  he  has  been,  throughout  these  many  years, 
So  secretive,  so  self-contained,  so  deep 
In  matters  that  I  could  not  guess,  that  now, 
When  he  at  last  promises  to  proclaim 
Some  strange  discovery,  I  half  believe 
It  will  be  worth  our  coming. 


82  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

[Two  women  enter  together.  The  younger  one  is 
leading  a  child  by  the  hand.  The  older,  a  gaunt,, 
spinsterly-looking  figure,  peers  about  with  a  near 
sighted  glance. 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE 

Take  that  seat. 
And  now  be  quiet. 

CHILD 

Mother,  will  he  have 
The  Devil  with  him? 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE 

I  don't  know.     The  child 
Has  been  completely  crazy  since  I  told  her 
That  I  would  bring  her  with  me. 

OLD  WOMAN 

I  am  just 

A  little  curious  myself.     I  learned 
When  I  was  young  all  that  they  thought  was  known 
About  the  Devil ;    and  if  this  Mr.  Faust 
Has  really  made  some  new  discovery 
About  him,  it  seems  well  that  even  the  young 
Should  be  informed  of  it. 

[A  number  of  detached  men  and  women  enter  and 
take  seats  silently.  They  are  followed  by  two 
plumbers  in  overalls,  carrying  the  tools  of  their 
trade  still  with  them. 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Whew,  but  the  boss  will  skin  us  for  this  trick! 

OLD    PLUMBER 

Go,  if  you  like.     But  I  intend  to  stay. 

I  have  not  been,  through  seventeen  long  years, 

Philosopher  myself,  now  to  let  slip 

A  chance  of  hearing  such  a  talk  as  this. 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  83 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Oh,  I  won't  go. 

OLD    PLUMBER 

You  'd  better  not.     They  say 
That  all  the  rumors  wholly  underrate 
The  real  importance  of  his  talk  to-day. 
I  've  been  informed,  on  good  authority, 
That  he  will  have  the  Devil  on  the  platform 
And  publicly  enchain  him  to  a  cart 
For  all  of  us  to  see. 

[The  two  plumbers  have  taken  their  seats.     A  man 
behind  them  leans  forward  now  and  interrupts  them. 

BUTCHER 

What's  that?     A  cart? 
He  means  to  drive  the  Devil  as  a  horse? 

OLD    PLUMBER 

Quite  probably,  quite  probably. 

BUTCHER 

Well,  that 

Will  be  outrageous,  in  these  troubled  times 
Of  strikes  and  lock-outs.     Without  any  doubt, 
If  he  goes  trying  to  harness  up  the  Devil, 
It  will  precipitate  a  teamsters'  strike. 
Using  non-union  horses  always  does. 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Do  you  think  that?    Why,  that  would  be  a  shame, 
When  times  are  bad  already. 
CHILD 

Mother,  Mother! 
Will  there  be  moving  pictures  ? 

I  don't  know. 


84  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

Don't  talk  so  loud. 

[Two  prosperous-looking  men  enter.    One  is  elderly, 

the  other  young. 

BANKEE 

Do  not  apologize 

Now  that  you've  brought  me.     As  I  said  at  first, 
I  am  prepared  to  see  a  mountebank 
Perform  his  pretty  tricks  of  eloquence 
To  set  the  crowd  agape.     Why,  once  a  week 
The  Ethical  Society  hires  one 

To  work  the  same  performance  —  quite  the  same 
Each  time.     Unearth  a  few  forgotten  doubts, 
Or  dig  your  elbow  into  some  new  dogma, 
And  you  will  see  the  mob  fawn  at  your  feet, 
Believing  you  the  greatest  mind  since  Plato. 

RICH   YOUNG    MAN 

I  'm  sure  he  is  n't  that  kind. 

BANKEE 

We  shall  see! 

And  afterwards,  the  drinks  shall  be  on  you. 

[A  gawky  young  man  who  has  flour  in  his  hair,  and 

a  vivacious  and  pertly  dressed  girl  enter  together. 
GIEL 

I  go  to  all  the  lectures  that  I  can. 

I  do  think  culture  is  the  grandest  thing; 

And  one  acquires  it  so  easily 

Nowadays  that  one  should  n't  let  it  slip. 
BAKEE 

I  'd  go  to    lectures,  too,  if  I  could  go 

Always  with  you. 
GIEL 

Well,  now,  perhaps  I  '11  try 

To  educate  you! 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  85 

BAKER 

Oh,  I  wish  you  would! 

[Satan  enters,  dressed  as  an  artisan.  He  takes  a 
seat  in  the  far  corner,  out  of  sight  of  the  platform. 
Two  young  men  enter.  Both  have  books  under  their 
arms. 

5TOUNG    STUDENT 

His  is  the  subtlest  mind  I  ever  knew. 
The  gulfs  through  which  he  whirled  bewildered  me 
When  he  would  talk.     So  I  am  quite  prepared 
For  a  great  treat  to-day. 

YOUNGER    STUDENT 

Oh,  I  forgot 

My  note-book.     Can  you  tear  a  sheet  from  yours? 
SATAN  ( to  a  man  beside  him  who  rises,  apparently  tired 
of  waiting) 

What,  going?     Well,  I  would  n't,  if  I  were  you. 
You  ought  to  hear  this :    I  have  had  a  hand 
In  getting  him  to  speak ;    and  I  am  sure 
There  will  be  something  doing. 

THE    MAN 

Well,  I  '11  stay, 

Since  you,  of  the  committee,  vouch  for  it. 
[More  people  enter  and  take  their  seats. 
YOUNG  PLUMBER  ( to  his  companion) 

What  do  you  get  by  being  philosopher? 
I  don't  see  how  you  do  it.  I  could  never 
Think  about  nothing  all  the  time,  like  you. 

OLD    PLUMBER 

Perhaps  your  mind  is  not  just  made  for  it. 
It  takes  a  thinker,  that  it  does.     And  I 
Did  not  get  into  it  so  easy,  either. 
I  read  a  lot  of  books  before  I  saw 


86  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

The  greatness  of  Philosophy.     Now  I  wonder 
How  I  got  on  without  it.     Why,  to-day 
I  could  not  clean  a  sewer  in  peace  of  mind 
If  I  did  not  know  that,  when  I  got  home, 
I  could  philosophize  on  Space  and  Time. 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

It  must  be  wonderful  to  know  these  things. 
[Brander  and  Midge  enter  together.     They  seem  to 
-find  some  difficulty  in  choosing  their  seats. 
MIDGE 

Are  you  quite  sure  that  we  can  hear  him  here? 

BRANDER 

Yes;    and  besides,  I  do  not  wish  to  sit 

Too  near  the  front.     I  'd  rather  not  have  come 

At  all  to-day.     But  you  .  .  . 

MIDGE 

Oh,  don't  go  back 

Now  on  your  promise !    I  must  hear  him  speak. 
I  must,  I  must.     I  cannot  tell  you  why; 
I  do  not  know.     But  I  have  never  seen 
A  face  that  seemed  to  promise  me  so  much  — 
Things  that  I  cannot  utter,  cannot  think. 

BRANDER 

I  never  want  to  see  his  face  again. 
I  shall  try  not  to  listen. 
CHILD 

Mother,  when 
Will  the  show  start? 
MERCHANT'S  WIFE 

Hush,  very  soon !    Yes,  see  — 
There  he  is  coming  in. 
CHILD 

Oh,  goody,  goody! 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  87 

[Faust  enters  the  hall  and  mounts  the  platform. 
He  busies  himself  for  a  moment  adjusting  the  read 
ing  desk;  then  turns  toward  the  audience,  gripping 
the  desk  steadily,  and  waits  a  moment  more  for  the 
stir  to  subside. 
FAUST 

I  come  before  you  with  unwilling  lips  — 
Not  led  by  eagerness,  or  wont  of  speech; 
Being  not  of  those  who  easily  proclaim 
Small  miracles  to  move  you.     But  the  force 
Of  grave  necessity  has  bid  me  cast 
All  thought  save  one  aside,  and  in  your  midst, 
Utter  strange  words,  with  lips  that  must  obey 
The  soul  that  wills  not  silence. 

For  I  come 

Announcing  not  the  common  verities 
Of  learned  books,  or  laboratory  lore, 
Or  ancient  heresies ;    as  speaks  the  fool, 
So  speak  I  —  from  my  heart.     What  I  have  seen, 
That  shall  you  see,  and  with  grim  gladness  hold 
Close  in  your  hearts.     Yes,  all  the  world  shall  see 

it- 

I  am  a  tower  burning  to  light  the  world! 
(He  pauses  a  moment,  meditatively) 

OLD  WOMAN  (whispering) 

He  has  a  good  opinion  of  himself. 

FAUST 

I  have  beheld  the  toil  and  pain  of  life, 
Its  emptiness  and  defeat;    I  have  beheld 
Hearts,  weary  with  recurrence  of  the  days 
That  held  no  sweetness,  turn  in  trust  to  where 


88  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

In  high  aerial  spaces  far  from  earth 

God  in  his  heaven  to  all  the  weary  ones 

Offers  a  refuge.     And  in  such  a  mood 

Was  I,  too,  led  toward  heaven  by  one  whom  now 

I  know  my  foe  —  Satan.     Toward  God  I  turned, 

Seeking  in  Him  fulfilment  of  all  hopes 

That  earth  had   thwarted.      Then,  in   the  hour  of 

prayer 

And  revelation,  from  my  deepest  breast 
Flashed  lightnings.     And  I  saw  the  Lord  of  Hosts 
High  on  a  mountain,  inaccessible 
To  yearning  men,  who,  mastered  by  a  dream, 
Turn  skyward  from  our  dark  and  struggling  earth. 
I  saw  the  crafty  Satan  urging  on 
The  heavenward-yearning  myriads,  while  the  world 
Lay  like  a  stagnant  quagmire,  to  his  sway 
Wholly  abandoned,  and  man's  mortal  house 
Burned  in  fierce  conflagration  of  corruption. 
And  lo !    the  lightnings  from  my  heart  smote  forth 
Across  the  heavens;    and  God  dissolved  like  cloud, 
And  through  the  cloud  peered  Satan's  sinister  face. 

Friends:   God  is  dead;    your  God  and  mine  is  dead. 

And  Satan  in  his  place  —  Satan  who  is 

The  father  of  the  gods  —  lures  on  your  hearts 

Unto  an  idol  in  the  untrodden  skies, 

That,  while  ye  dream  oblivious  in  the  void, 

The  earth  may  crumble.     Or  if  God  there  be, 

He  is  the  God  of  dying  hearts  and  spent  — 

A  deity  of  chaos,  for  whose  ends 

One  thing  alone  is  mete  —  ruin  of  life, 

Of  loathings  and  of  longings  that  on  earth 

Restlessly  grapple  with  the  powers  of  Hell. 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  89 

I  know  not  if  in  regions  yet  unguessed 
Some  gods  may  dwell,  of  nature  fit  to  guide 
Us,  the  adventurers  of  an  earthly  fight. 
But  I  have  seen  with  eyes  that  cannot  lie 
That  they  reside  not  in  this  Devil's  net  — 
This  heavenly  trust,  this  labyrinth  of  peace, 
Which  draws  men  on  to  nothingness.  .  .  . 

And  I  cry 

With  all  the  passion  of  my  baffled  soul  — 

Cast  down  your  God!     Cast  down  your  peace  and 

trust 

In  His  far  Will !    It  is  a  solace  mete 
For  slaves,  not  men.     With  bitter  hand,  destroy 
This  idol  of  destruction!     Smite  all  haunts 
Of  faith  and  resignation  and  defeat 
And  rest  and  peace  and  comfort.     Heaven  and  earth 
Alike  are  poisoned:    somnolence  in  heaven, 
Decay  on  earth  is  regnant.     Every  faith 
And  law  and  nation  must  in  wreck  go  down 
For  us  who  see  the  death  that  taints  their  halls ; 
And  ruin  shall  walk  reckless  through  the  world, 
Destroying  tombs  where  life  is  daily  slain! 
(Faust  pauses) 

BRANDER  (rises  suddenly  -from  his  place  in  the  audience) 
My  friends,  I  came  to  listen,  not  to  speak. 
But  when  such  words  as  these  from  impious  lips 
Fall  lightly,  I  must  rise  here  to  refute 
Their  poisonous  message.    Three  days  since,  I  stood 
With  this  man  in  the  sacred  halls  of  God, 
And  witnessed  in  his  heart  the  glory  grow 
Of  God's  bright  hope.    Then  suddenly  from  Hell, 
Or  from  his  own  deep,  labyrinthine  heart, 


90 MR.    FAUST     [ACT  iv 

Sprang  fiends  to  snatch  him  back  from  heaven's  clear 

gate 

And  God's  deliverance.     And  his  bitter  lips, 
By  thirst  so  nearly  quenched  made  bitterer  yet, 
Cried  blasphemies  against  the  powers  of  heaven 
And  all  bright  starry  hopes  that  light  our  days 
With  faith  and  glory.     And  the  hand  of  God, 
Inscrutably  withheld,  smote  him  not  dumb, 
But  suffered  him  to  go.     Now  in  our  sight 
He  rises  to  proclaim  his  searing  doubt, 
His  hot  destroying  passion,  and  tears  down 
Our  fairest  altars.     I,  who  was  his  friend, 
Hereby  renounce  him;    and  in  sober  words 
Counsel  all  men  to  flee  the  company 
Of  one  who  hates  the  great  hopes  of  the  world! 
[As  Brander  sits  down,  there  is  some  scattered  ap 
plause  in  the  audience.    Faces  are  turned  toward  him. 
Midge  sits  motionless,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

FAUST 

I  scarce  foresaw  that  my  laborious  task 
Should  profit  by  the  aid  of  willing  hands 
So  freely  offered.     Well,  the  Devil  moves  still 
Unchained  on  earth;    and  while  he  toils,  your  toil 
Is  of  small  matter.     You  have  ranged  yourself 
With  things  fast  dying ;    and  our  feet  —  the  feet 
Of  trampling  hordes  —  shall  pass  above  your  head, 
As  we  shall  pass  over  all  creeds  and  laws, 
All  stately  chambers  and  respected  homes 
And  hearths  and  council-halls  and  sleek  vile  marts  — 
We,  the  destroyers  of  destruction! 
BUTCHER 

Here! 
Don't  you  go  shaking  any  fist  at  me! 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  91 

GIRL 

I  think  it 's  awful.     Someone  ought  to  stop  him. 
MERCHANT'S  WIFE 
The  man  is  crazy! 

OLD    PLUMBER 

Say!     Would  you  destroy 
Space  and  Time,  too? 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Hooray  for  hell  broke  loose! 

BUTCHER 

Out  with  him !     He  's  an  anarchist ! 

BANKER 

I  'm  not 
Religious;    but  I  cannot  stand  for  that. 

YOUNG    STUDENT 

Oh,  let  him  have  a  chance ! 

BUTCHER 

Not  if  I  know  it! 
Damn  such  a  man !  , 

[Satan  suddenly  rises  in  his  place  with  commanding 
gestures.  The  people  stare  at  him,  and  after  a  mo 
ment  are  silent  to  hear  him  speak. 

SATAN 

My  friends,  I  think  we  all  — 
Or  most  of  us  —  agree  that  talk  like  this 
Is  a  destructive  influence,  to  be  met 
With  frowns,  in  justice  to  society. 
Such  words  disgrace  humanity,  affront 
Respectability,  and  fill  with  shame 
Our  hearts  for  such  a  speaker.    Yet  the  rogue 
Requires  but  rope  to  save  the  law  the  toil 
Of  trial  and  execution.     I  bespeak, 


92  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

Therefore,  your  patience  for  this  gentleman; 

Till  he  has  time  to  wind  the  hempen  knot 

Securely  round  his  throat,  let  us  sit  by 

And  hear  him  further. 
FAUST 

Thank  you.     You  begin 

Well  in  my  service. 
SATAN 

Aye,  indeed,  indeed! 

You  don't  suppose  a  mouse-trap  baits  itself? 

Friends,  let  us  hear  him. 

KICK   YOUNG  MAN 

That  sounds  sensible. 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Let  each  dog  have  his  day. 

OLD    PLUMBER 

Sit  down!     Shut  up! 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Leave  me  alone! 

SATAN 

One  moment  more,  I  pray, 
Of  your  kind  patience.     Sir,  ere  you  proceed, 
I  have  a  word  to  give  you.     I  have  heard 
Tales  of  your  cleverness  in  foiling  twice 
The  Devil  who  sought  to  lead  you  to  resign 
Your  will  to  his.     Perhaps  it  was  not  well 
That  you  so  spurned  his  euthanasia. 
By  your  own  devious  path,  you  come  at  last 
To  where  all  facts  are  vain,  all  visions  fade, 
And  your  old  wager  is  a  laughing-stock, 
So  valueless  your  will,  so  vain  your  power 
To  shape  one  end  of  hope.     Life  crumbles,  falls, 
Around  you;    and  your  kind  with  horror  see 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  93 

Your  utter  nakedness.     But  I  have  brought 

A  little  present  for  you:   not  so  nice 

As  two  the  Devil  once  offered  in  its  place; 

Yet  't  will  suffice.     Men  who  would  cheat  the  Devil 

Come,  with  a  curious  unanimity, 

To  where  the  lump  of  lead  becomes  a  boon 

Unto  the  soul  rejecting  easier  sleep. 

The  Devil  claims  his  own  in  his  own  day. 

(He  approaches  the  platform,  and  offers  to  Faust 

a  pistol) 

YOUNG    STUDENT 

What  is  he  saying? 

CHILD 

Are  they  going  to  shoot? 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Bang  yourself  one !     That 's  what  it 's  for. 

BUTCHER 

Good  riddance! 

There  is  n't  room  on  earth  for  jokes  like  you! 
FAUST  (accepts  the  pistol) 

In  such  a  spirit  as  you  offer  it, 

I  do  accept  this  token.     In  my  hand 

At  least  it  shall  lie  safe,  nor  be  a  god: 

I  worship  not  the  bullet.  .  .  .     But  beware 

What  mummer's  part  you  play  in  this  strange  scene. 

For  by  the  victory  I  have  won  of  late, 

I  am  your  master!     And  in  grovelling  dust 

Before  me  you  shall  cringe,  though  all  the  world 

Shun  me,  your  conqueror.     Vilest  of  slaves ! 

Accept  your  servitude! 

BUTCHER 

Here !     That 's  enough ! 


94  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

GIRL 

You  brute! 

SATAN 

Your  slave.     Command,  and  it  shall  be 
Fulfilled.     A  little  snarling  now  and  then 
Means  naught. 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

I  will  not  let  an  honest  man, 
A  worthy  citizen,  be  spoken  to 
Like  that  by  a  damn  anarchist  while  I 
Can  raise  a  hand! 

BUTCHER 

Nor  I! 

MERCHANT'S  WIFE 

Go  after  him! 

FAUST 

Silence!     Let  not  your  eager  efforts  prove 
You  are  the  beast-herd  he  would  bid  you  be! 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

What !     Let  us  show  him  how  to  talk  to  us ! 

SATAN 

See,  on  his  forehead,  see!     Where  the  deep  lines 
Meet  —  do  you  see  the  blackened  cross  that  grows 
Each  moment  darker  with  the  curse  of  God! 
He  is  branded,  he  is  Cain! 

FAUST 

Down,  slave!     Fulfil 

Now  my  command,  you  who  my  bondsman  are ! 
Seal  on  these  eyes  —  too  blind  to  take  the  light  — 
Darkness !     And  let  me,  turning  from  them,  know 
They  have  not  peered  into  my  open  heart. 
You  are  still  my  slave  —  though  they  are  only  fools. 


ACT  iv]  MR.    FAUST  95 

YOUNG    PLUMBER 

Damn  your  infernal  soul! 

BUTCHER 

Hit  him  a  crack! 

OLD    WOMAN 

Stop  all  your  noise. 

BUTCHER 

Here,  let  me  go,  you  fool! 

[Suddenly  aroused,  some  of  the  crowd  surge  for 
ward  toward  the  platform.  From  the  back  of  the 
room  someone  hurls  a  chair,  which  strikes  the  great 
chandelier:  the  lights  instantly  go  out,  leaving  the 
hall  in  total  darkness.  Confused  cries,  footsteps, 
blows. 

CRIES 

What  're  you  about  ?  .  .  .  Let  go !  ...  Where 
are  the  lights?  .  .  . 

[Suddenly  two  wall-brackets  are  illuminated,  dis 
closing  part  of  the  crowd  massed  on  the  platform. 
As  they  surge  back,  there  remains  on  the  platform, 
fallen  and  motionless,  the  figure  of  Faust.  He  raises 
his  head  slowly. 

FAUST 

Ah,  Satan!  .  .  .  worthy  serf  to  my  command!  .  .  . 
Go !  I  release  you.  For  I  would  not  die 
With  such  a  slave  —  Nay,  though  I  die  alone.  .  .  . 
[Suddenly  the  door  bursts  open,  and  in  surge  the 
maskers,  in  greater  numbers  and  even  wilder  tumult 
than  before.  Dancing  grostesquely,  linked  hand  in 
hand,  they  zigzag  through  the  hall,  overturning 
chairs  and  singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 


96  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  iv 

THE    MASKERS 

Oh,  children,  children,  children  dear, 
We  cannot  wait  for  any  New  Year. 
So  let  us  celebrate  now  and  here 
With  rah,  rah,  rah  and  a  bottle  of  beer ! 

CURTAIN 


THE    FIFTH   ACT 

The  scene  is  once  more  Faust's  library.  The  dim 
slanting  sunlight  of  late  afternoon  streams  through  the 
open  windows,  touching  the  gold  of  books  and  the 
brown  of  furniture  with  an  enamel-like  brilliancy. 

Brander  and  Faust's  butler  stand  just  mMe  the 
door. 

BUTLER 

I  am  afraid  you  cannot  see  him  now. 
The  doctor  is  still  here.     I  do  not  know 
If  anyone  may  see  him. 

BRANDER 

I  will  wait 

A  moment,  and  perhaps  may  see  the  doctor 
As  he  goes  out.     Have  things  been  bad  to-day? 

BUTLER 

Yes,  sir. 

[The  doctor  enters  from  the  door  on  the  left.     The 

'butler  goes  out. 

BRANDER 

How  is  he? 

DOCTOR 

As  one  might  expect. 

The  fever  's  gone ;   but  strength  has  gone  with  it : 
No  one  can  tell  how  long  his  heart  will  stand 
The  strain. 


98  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

BRANDER 

You  see  no  hope? 

DOCTOR 

I  only  see 

That  we  are  doing  all  we  can  for  him. 
Beyond  that,  I  can  say  no  more  than  you. 

BRANDER 

You  think  I  should  not  see  him? 

DOCTOR 

Oh,  no  harm. 
You    might    have    seen    him    when    you    came    this 

morning 

If  you  had  waited.     You  can  see  him  here. 
He  wanted  to  be  in  this  room  again, 
And  I  make  no  objection.     Well,  good-bye. 
[The  doctor  goes   out.      Brander  moves   restlessly 
about  the  room.     A  moment  later,  the  door  on  the 
left  opens,  and  Faust,  reclining  in  an  invalid1  s  chair, 
is  wheeled  into  the  room  by  the  butler.    He  is  clad  in 
a  long  dressing-gown;    he  is  very  pale.     The  butler, 
after  placmg   the  chair  before   the  fireplace,  goes' 
out.    Brander  remains  doubtfully  in  the  background; 
Faust  does  not  observe  his  presence. 
FAUST 

Again  these  walls ! — home  to  what  barren  dreams  ! — 

And  home  to  me !    O  dreams  and  bitterness, 

How  are  you  gilded  by  this  setting  light 

Of  afternoon!     Meseems  I  have  not  been 

Happy  save  here,  where  all  unhappiness 

Of  mine  had  source  and  root.     That  forest  holds 

Now  nothing  grievous  to  my  eyes  that  see 

What  once  they  saw  not.     Sweetness  like  the  light 

Of  setting  suns  now  lingers  over  it 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  99 

In  my  enchambering  memory  —    Life,  life 

With  all  its  glow  and  wonder  pours  a  flood 

On    this    strait    room   whence   I   have   watched   the 

world  — 

Whence  I  must  go  with  all  my  love  and  wonder 
As  though  no  love  and  wonder  I  had  won. 
[Faust  bends  his  head,  sinking  into  a  daze  of  thought. 
Brander   doubtfully    approaches    him,    and   at    last 
touches  his  shoulder. 

BRANDER 

I  have  been  heavy-hearted;    but  that  thus 
I  find  you,  overwhelms  me.   .   .   . 

FAUST 

Why  thus  sad 
Over  milk  so  irrevocably  spilled? 

BRANDER 

I  cannot  utter  what  is  in  my  heart. 
It  is  as  though  I  had  with  my  own  hand 
Stricken  you  down.     And  yet  I  did  not  dream 
Of  what   would   follow.  .  .  .  O   Faust,   Faust,   for 
give  me ! 
FAUST 

Forgive  you  ?    Aye,  and  thank  you !    Greater  things 
Hung  imminent  than  you  dreamed  of.     For  you  set 
Wild  lightnings  free  in  me  that  smote  the  dark 
Furled  round  me;    and  they  grew  and  flashed  and 

flamed 

Even  as  I  fell.     Aye,  Brander,  you  who  strove 
For  my  salvation  should  rejoice  at  last  — 
Now,  past  all  doubts  and  wanderings,  I  am  saved! 

BRANDER 

Saved!     Ah,  impossible! 


100  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  ' 

FAUST 

Saved!     And  the  light 

Of  glory  fills  me,  though  my  physical  frame 
Totters  on  dissolution.     I  believe !  .  .  . 
The  night  is  over. 

BRANDER 

Faust!     0  dearest  friend! 
My  heart  refuses  now  to  grasp  such  joy. 
If  it  were  possible !     Can,  can  it  be 
That  God  has  bent  once  more,  and  with  cool  touch 
Dispelled  the  feverous  mists  ?     Oh,  I  could  weep 
With  happiness  to  dream  it! 
FAUST 

Nay,  my  words 

Mean  more  than  you  interpret.     I  am  saved  — 
Not  as  you  count  salvation.     Nay,  I  come 
To  one  last  refuge,  finding  all  others  vain. 
The  common  joys,  the  peace  of  nescience, 
The  trust  in  some  far  Will,  the  hope  to  flame 
A  beacon  in  the  darkness  of  men's  dreams: 
Driven  forth  from  these,  one  citadel  still  lifts 
Heaven-fronting:   there  I  stand,  delivered,  free, 
Master  again  —  that  citadel,  my  soul. 
I  have  escaped  from  all  the  bondages; 
And  now  bow  down  to  nothing.     Joy  or  pain, 
Defeat  or  conquest^  good  or  evil,  now 
Lure  me  no  more.     I  will  put  hope  in  nothing 
Save  in  that  whole  strange  glistening  mortal  life 
That  past  me  streams  unto  an  end  sublime 
Whereof  you  know  not.     All  our  ends  are  folly, 
And  win  not  what  they  seek;    yet  there  is  joy 
In  seeking;    and  one  end  there  is  that  shows 
A  brighter  glow.    I  am  the  watcher  set 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  101 

Upon  the  heights.     In  my  impassioned  sight 
All  life  is  holy  that  strives  unto  life: 
Death  only  is  damnation.     I  will  be 
More  happy  than  the  happiest  man,  more  strong 
Than  is  the  strongest!     I  will  climb  on  the  neck 
Of  this  great  monster,  Life,  and  guide  its  course  — 
For  I  am  master  —  toward  that  end  I  see 
Hidden  afar  off. 

BRANDER 

You  are  sick  and  spent. 
I  should  not  thus  — 

FAUST 

Fear  not;    I  do  not  wander. 
Or  can  you  understand?     No,  no,  you  cannot. 
And  yet  some  tenderness  from  days  long  past 
Stirs  in  me  with  a  hope  for  you  once  more  — 
Hear  me  for  one  last  time. 
[Faust  touches  a  bell.     The  butler  enters. 

FAUST 

Bring  to  me,  please, 

That  large  black-covered  manuscript  I  wrote 
Last  night  until  the  doctor  took  it  from  me. 
It  is  among  the  papers  on  my  desk. 
[The  butler  searches,  finds  the  note-book  and  places 
it  on  the  table  beside  Faust.     The  butler  goes  out. 
Faust  sits  turning  over  the  pages  of  the  manuscript. 

FAUST 

Here  to  posterity  I  bequeath  my  soul  — 
Worthless,  perhaps,  as  heritage,  but  the  all 
I  have  to  give  to  them  I  love  so  much. 
These  pages  shall  cry  kinship  to  the  few 
Who,  finding  solace  nowhere,  yet  shall  find 


102  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

Solace  in  fierce  destruction  that  assails 
The  folly  and  the  madness  of  mankind. 
(He  begins  to  read  from  the  manuscript) 

Satan  recedes;    but  thou  who  seemest  near  — 

O  unborn  man,  whose  soul  is  of  my  soul, 

Whose  glory  is  of  my  glory  —  all  my  love 

Floods  out  like  light  from  the  down-going  sun 

Toward  thee,  the  nursling  of  a  lofty  line. 

Thou  art  my  faith  —  man  the  divine  to  come  — 

Man  whom  I  loathe  for  that  which  he  is  not  — 

Man,  even  now  half  divine  because  of  all 

That  shall  spring  from  him  in  the  days  to  be. 

Thou,  too,  shalt  fight  with  Satan,  as  I  fought, 

Yea,  in  eternal  battles  till  the  end. 

Thou  shalt  go  with  him  past  the  lure  of  lust, 

The  lure  of  power,  the  lure  of  that  great  sleep 

Nirvana;    past  the  yet  more  luring  sleep 

Where  dreams  assuage  the  soul  to  be  a  dream. 

Thou  shalt  go  with  him,  yet  apart  from  him 

And  all  his  works.     He  has  no  part  in  thee. 

He  is  the  chaos  seething  at  earth's  core  — 

Remnant  of  times  when  out  of  chaos  sprang 

Life's  upward  impulse.     He  is  the  darkness  spread 

Ere  yet  was  light  —  the  matter  ere  was  form  — 

The  vast  inertia  that  on  motion's  heels 

Clings  viper-like.     Of  life  and  form  and  growth 

He  is  negator;    and  his  ceaseless  joy 

Is  to  impede  and  drag  to  chaos  back 

The  shoot  that  toward  the  light  triumphant  springs. 

But  vain  his  victories,  though  he  lingers  yet 
With  slowly  narrowing  frontiers.     Past  his  will, 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  103 

Slowly  the  sons  of  light  transcend,  remould 
Their  day  and  destiny;    slowly  there  is  born 
Order  from  chaos,  flowers  from  formless  mud, 
Light  from  the  darkness,  Faust's  from  Satan's  soul. 

With  laughing  and  with  wonder  and  with  triumph 

I  take  that  life  and  clasp  it  to  my  breast  — 

I,  part  of  all,  and  all  a  part  of  me  — 

Streaming  a  river  flashing  in  the  sun. 

I  am  drunk  with  the  glory  of  that  which  tramps 

me  down 
And  passes  and  transcends  me  —  and  is  mine ! 

I,  one  with  thee,  O  child  of  Flame,  behold 
Thy  harvest  —  when  the  passion  of  the  years 
Turns  earthward,  and  in  mastered  order  sets 
The  house  that  is  our  dwelling.     And  therein, 
In  the  gold  light  of  summer  afternoons, 
With  thee  I  too,  careless  and  laughing,  play 
Mid  dreams  and  wonders  that  our  will  has  made  — 
Bathe  in  the  beauty  that  our  eyes  have  poured 
Upon  the  hills  —  and  drink  in  thirsty  draughts 
The  happiness  we  have  rained  upon  the  earth. 

I  see,  with  ultimate  unshaken  vision! 

I  see  the  earthly  paradise;    I  see 

Men  winged  with  wonder  on  the  future  throne 

Up  infinite  vistas  where  life's  feet  shall  climb. 

Out  of  the  dust,  out  of  the  plant  and  worm, 

Out  of  ourselves  about  whose  feet  still  clings 

The  reptile-slime  of  our  creation  —  lo  ! 

Our  children's  children  rise ;    and  all  my  love 

Draws  toward  them  and  the  light  upon  their  brows. 


104  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

This  is  my  faith;    this  is  my  happiness; 
This  is  my  hope  of  heaven ;   this  is  my  God. 

BRANDER 

The  eternal  God  in  heaven  forgive  you  this! 
FAUST 

The  Devil  I  can  foil,  but  not  my  friends! 

Strange  allies  to  his  cause !     Well,  dusk  was  long 

My  portion ;    now  all  gathering  storms  of  hate 

Are  less  than  naught  to  me.     Six  months  ago, 

When  here  I  stood  that  memorable  night, 

My  gloom  was  starless;    now  one  fiery  star 

Pierces  it.     And  this  broken  frame  of  mine 

Cannot  annul  that  much  of  victory  — 

The  solace  born  of  passion  to  destroy 

That  shall  survive  me  if  indeed  I  die. 

Alone  my  life  was  lived;    if  now  I  go, 

It  is  alone  into  a  quiet  grave 

Above  whose  mound  the  fairer  future  days 

Shall  pass,  and  I  not  know  them.     Yet  my  night 

Takes  foregleam  from  the  vision  of  that  dawn 

And  I  am  solaced.     And  I  leave  my  solace 

As  heritage  to  the  ever  widening  few 

Who  after  me  shall  triumph  more  than  I 

In  dawns  of  flaming. 

BRANDER 

O  my  friend,  my  friend, 

I  would  my  tongue  could  cry  as  my  heart  cries  — 
Turn    back    from    darkness    before    the    hour    has 

struck ! 

Even  yet  may  mercy  fold  you.     God  is  great 
And  tender;    and  perhaps  His  love  may  clasp 
Even  your  aloofness,  if  at  last  your  heart 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  105 

Calls  in  repentance  to  Him.     O  Faust,  Faust, 
Sink  your  vain  pride  of  spirit  —  kneel  to  Him  — 
Beseech  His  mercy  ere  it  is  too  late! 
FAUST 

I  am  no  melancholy  death-bed  scene 

To  claim  your  tears,  dear  Brander.     Doubtless  days 

Of  infinite  scope  lie  yet  before  me,  since 

No  oracle  has  foretold  that  I  shall  die. 

But  if  I  die,  then  go  I  singing  down, 

Not  praying  or  repentant,  to  my  grave. 

I  would  smite  again  the  altar !     I  would  smite 

The  hearts  bowed  before  it;    all  the  world 

And  the  Beyond-world  would  I  rend,  having  seen 

Serpents  in  their  secret  places. 

BRANDER 

Has  no  breath 

Of  heavenly  love  touched  this  corrosive  core 
Of  hell-fire  in  you? 
FAUST 

There  is  none  whose  power 
Is  half  so  mighty. 

BRANDER 

Through  last  night's  long  hours, 
Poor  Midge,  alone  and  comfortless,  wept  out 
Her  heart,  believing  all  that  you  had  said. 
And  when  I  spoke  to  her,  she  cried :  "  Go,  go ! 
I  am  lost  where  none  can  help  me ;    all  my  dreams 
Shudder  and  perish,  even  as  he  has  perished; 
Yet  they  shall  live  again  —  but  he  will  die !  "  .  .  . 
Thus  darkness  falls  from  you  upon  men's  hearts. 
I  know  not  if  God's  deep  forgiving  love 
To  such  as  you  is  granted.  .  .  . 


106  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

FAUST 

Midge  could  tell 

A  truer  tale.     Her  eyes  were  full  of  light 
And  wonder  as  she  heard  me. 

BRANDER 

And  she  now 
Weeps  comfortless! 
FAUST 

And  shall  I  then  regret? 

Is  her  soul  yours,  that  you  appraise  and  know? 
Life  stirs  in  her:    and  like  the  agonies 
Of  all  life's  birth,  it  shakes  her:    yet  one  day 
She  shall  rise  strong,  sister  to  mighty  winds, 
A  new  and  holy  wonder  in  her  eyes. 
Tell  her  from  me  that  I  have  not  forgotten 
My  promise  in  the  church  that  I  would  come. 
But  if  I  come  not,  let  her  come  to  me !  — 
Let  her  come  with  me  on  my  luminous  road. 

BRANDER 

Pity  her,  and  the  hosts  that  with  her  stand 
Shelterless  from  the  blasts  of  your  wild  hate. 
FAUST 

Who  loves  must  hate,  who  hates  must  burn  with 

love.  .   .  . 

I  hate  the  world;   but  like  the  breath  of  life, 
Sustaining  me  even  yet  a  little  while, 
Is  my  surpassing  love  for  its  great  hopes. 
Aye,  in  the  hour  when  I  knew  myself  alone, 
My  hate  cried :   Smite !  —  because  of  thy  great  love 
For  one  irradiant  form  that  is  to  be. 
Now  is  my  hate  a  lamp  of  tenderness  — 
Now  I  destroy  because  I  love  beyond  — 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  107 

I  build,  I  triumph  with  bright  domes  that  rise 
In  laughing  loveliness  into  the  morning! 

BRANDER 

I  love  you  and  I  pity  you  —  and  I  go. 

FAUST 

We  shall  not  meet  again. 
[Brander  goes  out. 
FAUST 

He  will  go  down 
Not  singing,  no,  not  singing!  .  .  . 
(He  once  more  takes  up  the  manuscript,  and  turns 
to  the  last  pages) 

And  now,  when  from  my  shoulders  like  a  load 
Begins  to  slip  the  weariness  of  life, 
And  a  new  vigor  fills  me  —  now  it  seems 
That  death  is  hovering  close.     O  Grisly  One, 
Whom  once  I  thought  a  not  unwelcome  guest 
To  my  cold  troubled  house,  I  am  not  glad 
To  hear  thy  steps  without.     For  in  my  halls 
Lights  kindle,  and  the  music  sobs  and  sings 
In  ecstasy  of  other  guests  than  thee.  .  .  . 
(He  takes  up  his  pen  and  turns  to  the  end  of  the 
manuscript,  as  if  to  write) 
Can  this  poor  strength  suffice  me  to  complete 
These  final  words?     Nay,  better  to  leave  unsaid 
The  few  last  lines  my  vanity  desires 
To  tell  and  justify  my  end  and  fall 
Like  flourish  of  bright  trumpets.     Let  them  sleep 
Unuttered;    for  the  burden  of  my  song 
Is  voiced  already  in  these  labored  leaves; 
And  it  is  well,  unfinished  and  unclosed 
Should  stop  this  record,  whose  concluding  words 
Of  fairer  hope,  of  sheerer  miracle, 


108  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

Some  greater  hand  than  mine  shall  some  day  write 
And  seal  the  chronicle  —  nay,  never  seal  it  1 
[The  butler  enters. 

BUTLER 

There  is  a  man  waiting  to  see  you,  sir. 

FAUST 

Let  him  come  in. 

BUTLER 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  — 
Can  I  do  nothing  for  you? 
FAUST 

Thank  you,  nothing. 

[The  butler  goes  out  again.  Satan  enters.  He  is 
dressed  in  a  long  black  cloak  of  foreign  cut;  for  the 
first  time,  he  has  the  look  of  sinister  majesty  ap 
propriate  to  the  Prince  of  Hell. 

SATAN 

Master,  your  slave  is  here! 
FAUST 

This  fooling  still? 

SATAN 

What  little  service  would  my  conqueror  wish? 
FAUST 

Peace  from  your  childish  talk.     The  game  is  done. 
Quite  well  you  knew  that,  came  I  victor  forth, 
I  would  not,  for  all  treasure  in  the  world, 
Have  such  an  one  as  servant,  who  can  serve 
No  end  that  I  desire. 

SATAN 

Aha!    At  last 

Light  penetrates  that  cobwebbed  cranium, 
And  I  can  laugh  in  public!     All  these  months, 


ACT   v]  MR.    FAUST  109 

I  several  times  have  come  perilously  near 
Bursting  with  mirth  at  the  rare  spectacle. 
FAUST 

Pray  you,  laugh  freely. 

SATAN 

Nay,  my  mirth  is  spent. 
My  heart  is  moved  even  toward  an  enemy, 
When  on  his  head  defeat  its  torrent  pours. 
I  offer  you  my  sympathy. 

FAUST 

My  thanks 
Are  in  appropriate  measure  tendered  you. 

SATAN 

Distrust  me  not,  for  lo,  the  game  is  done  — 

There  are  no  battles  more,  no  testings  more 

To  set  between  us.     From  the  heart  of  life 

Have  forces  risen — aye,  from  the  people's  breast ! — 

To  seal  the  measure  of  defeat;    and  now 

Why  shall  we  quarrel  further? 

FAUST 

Why,  indeed? 

SATAN 

I  hear  that  you  are  working  on  a  book 

Recounting  your  adventures  with  the  Devil. 

I  hope  't  is  finished :    it  had  better  be ! 

You  will  not  write  large  libraries,  my  friend, 

In  what  of  life  remains  to  you. 
FAUST 

It  is 

Completed  wholly. 
SATAN 

May  I  look  at  it? 


110  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

FAUST 

You  may  not. 

SATAN 

Ah,  't  is  a  surprise  for  me ! 
FAUST 
Possibly. 

SATAN 

Well,  you  work  late  into  dusk. 
Dusk  falls  about  you;    soon  the  night  will  come, 
And  silence.   .  .   .  Has  an  oracle  in  your  heart 
Whispered  the  tidings  of  that  night?     Or  have 
The  pages  of  the  prophets  told  to  you 
What  waits  within  that  darkness? 

FAUST 

There  waits  sleep. 

But  I  have  lived,  and  do  not  fear  life's  last 
Inevitable  word. 

SATAN 

My  lips  are  sealed, 

Though  I  would  fain  prepare  you  for  that  first 
And  awful  moment  when,  beyond  death's  gates, 
You  see  and  know  —  for  now  you  do  not  know  — 
What  there  awaits  you.     You  have  seen  the  grave; 
You  know  the  dissolution  and  decay 
That  folds  the  body  as  it  mouldering  lies 
After  the  racking  of  those  final  hours 
Where  soul  and  body  part.     But  have  you  guessed 
That  —  as  the  body  rots  without  the  soul  — 
So  the  soul  crumbles  in  a  vile  decay 
You  cannot  picture,  when  the  body  dies? 
Then  falls  the  spirit  limb  from  reeking  limb. 
An  agony  beyond  all  mortal  thought 
Shakes  every  atom  of  the  spiritual  frame  — 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  111 

The  throes  of  dissolution.     Death,  indeed, 
All  men  can  bear;    but  this  last  spiritual  death, 
This  torture  of  the  disembodied  soul 
To  force  dissolving  —  ah,  prepare  yourself ! 
It  shall  appall  you! 
FAUST 

If  it  comes,  it  comes. 

SATAN 

We  have  been  foes;   but  now  I  speak  as  friend. 
This  shall  not  come  to  you !     'T  is  in  my  power 
To  save  you  from  this  uttermost  horror's  grasp. 
For  I  have  gift  of  perfect  dreamless  sleep; 
And  those  to  whom  I  give  shall  after  death 
Slumber  unconscious  while  the  awful  change 
Attacks  them;    and  oblivion  shall  be  theirs 
Unbroken  stretching  from  the  final  hour. 

FAUST 

That  were  a  boon  not  easily  despised. 

SATAN 

It  shall  be  yours !     My  crushed  and  broken  foe 
Shall  never  at  my  hand  lack  final  rest 
"Where  nightmares  cannot  come.     As  honest  foes 
We  shall  be  quit.     And  for  this  priceless  gift 
I  ask  but  that  you  give  me,  as  remembrance, 
That  book  which  you  have  wrought  concerning  me. 

FAUST 

Why  still  so  eager? 

SATAN 

Eager?     I  am  not, 

FAUST 

Satan,  my  soul  still  sees,  though  death  has  drawn 
Its  curtains  round  my  body.    You  have  sought 


112  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

With  long  endeavor  to  enslave  my  will 

To  nothingness ;    now  would  you  doom  to  dark 

My  sublimated  soul,  my  written  word, 

My  force  immortal.   .   .  . 

{He  takes  up  the  pen) 

This,  Satan,  is  your  answer  — 
(He  writes  on  the  last  sheet  of  the  manuscript) 
"  With  this  last  word  I  close  my  testament : 
*  Man,  work  thy  will,  and  God  shall  come  of  thee.'  " 

SATAN 

Poor  thwarted  fool,  who  would  not  take  my  lures, 
Being  far  too  wise!  Yet  dustward  now  he  turns, 
And  where  Faust  stood  shall  nothingness  survive! 

FAUST 

Approach  me  not:    I  have  grown  sanctified. 
Loathing  the  night  and  dreaming  of  the  dawn, 
I  claim  some  kinship  with  the  Eternal  Power 
Which  in  the  dust,  the  daisy  and  the  star 
Moves  onward  in  its  self-ordained  sway  — 
Life  everlasting.     Through  my  veins  it  sweeps, 
Bearing  me  onward;    and  as  I  am  borne, 
I  onward  urge,  till  my  short  day  be  done 
And  I  fall  spent;    and  over  me  the  wave 
Sweeps  on  its  way  immortal;    and  my  soul 
Partakes  of  that  lost  immortality. 

SATAN 

Dreamer,  whose  dreams   shall  soon  be  choked  with 
dust ! 

FAUST  (slowly  rising) 

I  am  that  dreamer  to  whose  mounting  dreams 
No  bounds  are  set,  no  region  which  rny  will 
May  not  reach  out  toward.     And  I  will  create  — • 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  113 

I,  and  the  souls  that  after  me  shall  come  — 
By  passion  of  desire  a  pillar  of  flame 
Above  the  wastes  of  life.     If  no  God  be, 
I  will  from  my  deep  soul  create  a  God 
Into  the  universe  to  fight  for  me! 
(He  sinks  back) 

SATAN 

How  strong  a  master!     Why  not  slay  me  now? 
Put  forth  your  strength,  and  try  how  great  it  be ! 

FAUST 

Though  dying,  I  am  master.     But  you  still 
Arc  jester,  even  at  death-beds  —  -  knowing  well 
I  have  no  power  to  slay  you.     You  retreat 
But  perish  not;    the  sphere  of  your  domain 
Contracts,  but  it  endures  immortally. 
Have  done  with  jesting:    look  me  in  the  eyes! 
Acknowledge  me,  and  all  high  heritors 
Who  shall  succeed  me,  your  eternal  foe, 
Your  eternal  victor  in   half-victories  — 
But  never  your  destroyer  to  the  last. 

SATAN 

I  thank  all  prophets  for  their  prophecy! 
But  I  shall  still  remain?  .  .   . 

FAUST 

You  shall  remain.  .  .  . 
SATAN 

I  shall  remain!  .  .  . 

[Faust  and  Satan  sit   silent,  watching  each  other 
steadily.     Faust  closes  his  eyes,  then  suddenly  raises 
himself  in  his  chair. 
FAUST 

Ah,  vvli.-il   a  ghastly  dream! 

Ghastly,  for  all  its  cold  and  lofty  state. 


114  MR.    FAUST  [ACT  v 

Nay,  what  have  I  to  do  with  yearning  thoughts 

Of  immortality?     I  am  young  with  life! 

I  shall  not  die !     Hope  and  the  eager  years 

Of  labor  rise  before  me  as  I  press 

Clear    of    these    shadows.      I    have    dreamed    dark 

dreams  — 

One  very  dark  of  late  —  but  now  my  blood 
Resurges  in  a  not  less  passionate  fire 
Than  when,  less  wise,  I  stretched  my  hands  to  life, 
And  all  my  hopes  were  winged.     But  that  is  past; 
And  dreams  are  past:    the  day  of  deed  is  come. 
Aye,  in  the  cities,  on  the  hills  of  the  world, 
I  shall  uplift  the  banner  of  high  wars  — 
I  shall  make  mock  of  this  strange  dizziness  — 
I  shall  live  —  and  Death  retreats  from  me  afraid ! 

SATAN 

What!     Then  I'll  do  his  office! 

FAUST 

Spare  your  pains 

The  tide  of  strength  recedes,  swift  as  it  came.  .  .  . 
Oldham!     I  cannot  die!     I  cannot  die!  ... 
And  I  am  dying.  .  .  . 

[Faust  sinks  back  with  closed  eyes.  The  door  opens 
softly  and  the  butler  enters,  followed  by  Midge 
who  carries  an  armful  of  flowers.  She  looks  around 
the  room,  bewildered;  then  crosses  quickly  to  Faust's 
chair. 

SATAN 

Madam,  you  come  too  late. 

[Faust  opens  his  eyes  —  and,  lifting  the  manuscript, 
with  feeble  hand  holds  it  out  to  her. 


ACT  v]  MR.    FAUST  115 

FAUST 

No,  not  too  late.  .  .  .  Touch  me  across  the  dusk  — 
[Midge,  shaken  and  f  altering,  clasps  the  book  to  her. 
Doubtfully  she  touches  his  shoulder.  Faust,  slightly 
smiling,  closes  his  eyes. 

CTJETAIN 


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